


Of Birthdays and Cannibals

by sphekso



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cannibalism, F/M, Firenze | Florence, Hotel Sex, Infidelity, M/M, Milan, Mizumono Never Happened, Multi, Murder, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Switzerland, Threesome - F/M/M, Zurich, artRAVE, no smut though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 33,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4334195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphekso/pseuds/sphekso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abigail has one request for her 22nd birthday: to Hannibal's chagrin, she wants to see Lady Gaga live in concert. He grudgingly accepts, and she and Will hatch a vodka-drenched plan to make his night even more fun. Meanwhile, Hannibal procures some high society meals for her birthday party, and events are set into motion that the trio-- and Gaga herself-- might not be able to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Capitolo Primo

Hannibal and Will lay propped up in bed side by side. Hannibal looked over from his open copy of the _Punica_ to scan Will’s features. “You’re truly serious about this?” he asked.

Will nodded in return. “Look.” He tapped at his iPad a few times. “We can order the tickets here. They’re not that expensive, considering.”

Hannibal leaned over to peek at the screen and squinted at it. “We take her to the symphony, the opera… she loves the ballet. Yet she wants to see this _pop star_ ,” he spoke the words with disdain, “lip sync her way through some vulgar dance routine?”

Will set the tablet on Hannibal’s open book. “It’s what she wants,” he repeated. “So here, buy the tickets. And for the record, she doesn’t lip sync; I’ve heard her sing a capella and she really impressed me.”

“She’s still nothing but a _pop star_ ,” Hannibal muttered.

“What could it hurt?” Will asked. “One night isn’t going to ruin her education.”

Hannibal pushed the iPad aside and shut the _Punica_ abruptly, filling the room with the clap of pages on pages. “Even her name is ridiculous.”

“I think it has a ring to it,” Will said. “It’s a title of nobility. That’s classy, right?”

“It’s classy for a _pop star_ ,” Hannibal replied. “But it’s not classy enough for our Abigail.”

“If you say ‘pop star’ one more time I’m going to smack you,” Will said, raising his fist in jest. “Anyway, we don’t own her. She can make her own decisions.”

“Yes, but should we facilitate them?”

Will pushed his glasses up on his nose. “You don’t have to go with us if you don’t want to, but…” he trailed off.

“Well, I see you’ve made up your own mind,” Hannibal said. He sighed heavily. “Fine. Do it. I’ll come along, if only to witness the disaster.”

“She’ll be thrilled,” Will said. “She wants tickets on the floor, but I’m guessing you’d rather have seats.”

“I would, but as long as I’m going along with this fiasco we might as well go all the way with it. We’ll let her have the run of the place.”

“I’m glad,” Will said.

“ _Lady Gaga_ , eh? I suppose you’re right: it does have a ring to it.” Hannibal sighed again and picked up his book. He stared at the cover. “You know, for my birthday she gifted me epic poetry. She has fine taste. And now we’re to gift her with this? It feels improper.”

“Improper or not, for the third time, it’s what she wants.”

Hannibal nodded and opened the _Punica_ back to his marked spot. He read a few lines without saying a word. Then: “I won’t deny her a fleeting pleasure. However…” He paused. “I’m only agreeing to this if we’re still able to hold her birthday party.”

“Of course,” Will replied. He smirked. “She would never deny you _your_ fleeting pleasure, either.”

“ _My_ pleasure?” Hannibal shook his head. “I was under the impression that she enjoyed the company of the cultured elite.”

“Oh, she does. Don’t worry about that.” Will patted Hannibal’s knee. He entered his billing information into the tablet—he knew his card number by heart—and checked out. “Done,” he said. “Three tickets for November 4th in Milan.”

Hannibal ran his hand through his hair, tugging harshly as he went. “Why in god’s name did I agree to this?”

Will leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Because you love her. And I love you for loving her.”

“True enough,” Hannibal said, and took his hand from his hair to put his arm around Will. “I love you most, you know.”

“I know,” Will replied. “Believe me, I know.” He set aside his tablet and rested his head against Hannibal’s shoulder. “I never thought it would be this easy.”

“What do you mean?” Hannibal asked.

“Us being here, as a family. I don’t think anybody could have guessed it would turn out like this.”

“Probable or not, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Hannibal nuzzled his head against Will’s hair. “Let’s go to sleep, shall we?”

Will pulled back and looked him in the eyes. His own pair seemed to glitter bluer than usual. “Straight to sleep?” he asked, a coy look on his face.

Hannibal smiled. “Unless you have other plans.”

“I have a few,” Will said, and leaned in for a kiss.

 

* * *

 

Will walked through the front door with his hands full of packages from the front step. As soon as he kicked it shut behind him, Abigail bounded down the stairs, eyes as wide and bright as they could be. “Are they here?” she asked.

“I think so,” Will said. He set the packages aside, picked out a cardboard envelope, and handed it to her.

She tore into it with fervor and found her prize. “Omigod!” she cried, removing the tickets from the envelope. She held them up for Will to see. “I’m so excited.”

He pulled her in for a hug. Hannibal, having heard the ruckus, came into the foyer to see what the fuss was about. “They’re from both of us,” Will said, noting his husband’s arrival.

Abigail disengaged from Will and looked to Hannibal expectantly. “No hug?”

Hannibal crossed his arms. “You know I’m not a hugger.”

Abigail rolled her eyes in a way that only a young woman could get away with. “Just this once?”

A twitch of a smile crossed Hannibal’s lips. “Alright,” he said. “Just this once.” Hannibal stepped forward and she flattened herself to his chest. He cleared his throat and stepped away after a moment. “Satisfied?” he asked. He surprised himself by smiling.

“Very,” Abigail said. “I can’t believe you actually bought us tickets for something like this.”

“Neither can I,” Will said, and elbowed Hannibal.

“And you’re actually coming, too. I can’t believe it,” Abigail said. She was positively beaming.

“I couldn’t let my favorite girl down,” Hannibal said. He reached out to pat her shoulder, which was much more of a Hannibal gesture than the full-body embrace had been.

“You’re the best,” she said. “Both of you.”

“We try,” Will said, slipping his arm around Hannibal’s waist.

Hannibal reached for one of the tickets and studied it. “The date is fortuitous, isn’t it?”

Abigail nodded enthusiastically. “The day after my birthday. It’s perfect.”

“I never knew you enjoyed pop music,” Hannibal said.

“I don’t usually. But my dad,” her face fell a little at the mention of him, then perked back up when she thought of Gaga, “took me to see her when I was seventeen. And she made an impression.”

Hannibal’s brows went up. “An impression? We’ll see.”

“Who knows,” Will said, “maybe you’ll even end up liking her.”

Abigail laughed, but Hannibal was nonplussed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Try to let loose a little,” Will told him.

“Maybe we should get him drunk,” Abigail suggested, still grinning like a demon. “Then he’d really let loose.”

Will grinned back. “That’d be a sight to see. Have you even _been_ drunk, Hann?”

Hannibal took a step back from Will and screwed up his face like he’d just smelled a rotting corpse: a smell he was probably familiar with, now that Will thought of it. “Of course not. I wouldn’t waste the wine.”

“There’s alcohol other than wine,” Abigail said with another girlish roll of her eyes. “Or…” she tipped her head to the side. “There’s always mushroom tea.”

Hannibal hid his face with his palm. “Good lord. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you two.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to be stuck with us,” Abigail said. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“You’re so… chipper today,” Hannibal said, peeking through his fingers.

“And you’re acting like a crotchety old man,” Abigail teased.

Will sucked in a fearful breath at the insult. It was best not to test Hannibal, but he didn’t seem offended. This time, at least. “Relax, dearest,” Hannibal told him. “She’s just in a good mood.”

“Sorry,” Abigail said, realizing her mistake. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t apologize,” Hannibal interrupted. “I suppose I am acting like a crotchety old man. I’ll try to loosen up, as you said.”

“And the booze?” Will asked. Abigail’s idea had been too entertaining to let go of.

Hannibal shot him a concerned look. “You too? Good lord.”

“I’ve never seen you actually altered by anything,” Will said. “It would be fun.”

“It probably wouldn’t take him much, either,” Abigail added. “He won’t have any tolerance.”

“Abigail…” Hannibal looked her dead in the eye. “Are you speaking from experience?”

The grin dropped from her face and she shoved her hands deep in her pockets. “Would that bother you?”

“Hann,” Will butted in, “she’s an adult. She gets to make decisions for herself, even when it comes to alcohol.”

“It’s reckless,” Hannibal snapped. “We can’t afford to be reckless.”

“Relax a little,” Will said, holding up his hands. “No one’s going to go looking for her at little house parties. It’s not like she’s going clubbing.”

Hannibal was aghast. “She isn’t—you knew about this?”

Will shrugged. “She asked permission. I didn’t think it was a problem. Although,” he dropped his hands, “I didn’t think it was a great idea for you to find out, either.”

“Really, Hannibal, I’m being perfectly safe,” Abigail said. She tried to put on her best reassuring smile.

“If you say so. Regardless, I’m not worried about the concert. Ten thousand people will be there. If there was ever a place to go unnoticed, it would be there,” Hannibal said.

“So?” Abigail asked him.

“ _So_ what?”

“The alcohol? It can be a night of new experiences.”

Hannibal sighed. He’d been doing a lot of that since the concert business had started. “We’ll see, but…” He stared at his feet, then back up to Abigail. “No, fine. Why not? Maybe it’ll make this Lady Gaga’s warbling more bearable.”

“We’d better buy a bottle of something, then,” Will said without hesitation. “I was fond of vodka when I was her age.”

Abigail laughed again. She laughed all the time lately, even more than Hannibal sighed, and every time she did it it brought warmth to both men’s hearts. “I am, too. Vodka it is.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” Hannibal asked no one in particular, hiding behind his hand again.

“Even the most cultured of the cultured has dipped low a time or two,” Will said.

“Yeah,” Abigail agreed. “Chill.”

“Chill?” Hannibal shook his head and left the room.

Abigail threw herself at Will for another hug. “Do you think he’s actually gonna go through with it?” she asked.

“Who knows? I’ll buy the liquor anyway. It’s your birthday, after all; you should have whatever you want. And if he doesn’t want it, there’s always you and me.” He winked at her.

She winked back. “Well, I appreciate it. I really can’t wait.”

“Someone should probably clue him in to wearing something other than a suit,” Will said. “Especially since we’re on the floor. He would stick out, to say the least.”

She bit her lip a little in thought. “A normal button down should be okay. I think.”

“And what about me?” Will asked. He looked down at his red flannel and jeans.

“Just dress casual, like that. You’ll be fine.” She tugged at her lip with her teeth again before saying, “Unless you want to do something silly.”

“Silly?”

“No, it’s nothing,” she said, blushing.

“Tell me.”

“Well… It’s just that we have enough time to order you a t-shirt of hers, and if I got one, too, we could match.”

Will scratched at his prickly chin. “Would that make you happy?”

“Really happy.”

“I guess so, then.” He nodded. “Let’s do it.”

She clapped her hands together and linked her fingers as one. “I’d better order it soon. Can I use your credit card?”

He chuckled. “Of course you can. And get them overnighted; we only have a few days.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her one of his cards. The name on the front read: LEONARDO FELL.

She held the card close to her chest. “Thanks, Will. Really.”

“No problem, Abs.”

She grinned and tore off for her bedroom.


	2. Capitolo Due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal goes hunting for "ingredients" for Abigail's birthday dinner.

It was a new moon that night, and so far away from the city that the stars were clearly aglow in the sky. Hannibal switched off his headlamp and eased his motorcycle onto a small dirt road. He drove slowly, careful not to upset his trek, until he reached a house on a cliff. He brought his bike to a stop and lifted his helmet from his head, shook out his hair, and peered at the house in front of him. It was a rustic two stories, not spacious, but not cramped. He climbed off his bike and stood watching the house.

The second story was lit, spilling yellow light across the lawn. He assumed the man he’d come to see was spending time in his bedroom. Hannibal made his way toward the house, taking care not to step into the light, his footprints obscured by lush grass.

He reached the front door. He wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked. The home only housed one man, and it was far enough out of the city that crime wouldn’t be a consideration under normal circumstances. He opened the door and slipped inside.

The entryway was sparsely decorated, and as he made his way through to kitchen toward the staircase, he realized that the resident hadn’t made much of an effort to spruce up his own surroundings. He paused in the kitchen when he saw a display of knives. He took one, serrated, and began to creep up the staircase with knife in hand.

He could hear the sound of an active television upstairs. He cautiously stepped up onto the landing and surveyed his surroundings: a hallway to the right, and a hallway to the left. Light poured from the left hall. He steeled himself and approached the door at the end of the lit hallway. The sound of a television slipped its way through the cracks. A sitcom was playing, with its crude laugh track standing in stark position to the man with murderous intentions outside the room. He nudged the door open.

Giuseppe Alandro sat on his bed watching his TV set. He gasped when Hannibal opened the door, and immediately backed up and fumbled with his nightstand’s drawer. Hannibal was on him in moments, and pinned him against the bed.

“Is there a gun?” Hannibal asked. “I’m afraid it won’t help you tonight, Giuseppe.”

“Who are you?” Alandro choked out. “Why are you doing—“

“Shhh,” Hannibal soothed. “No need to be upset. I’m merely going to take you to meet your wife. Won’t that be nice?”

Alandro’s eyes went wide and crazed. “I’m not ready to die!” he cried.

“Die? You assume much,” Hannibal said in reply.

“Then what?” Alandro asked.

“I appreciate that you haven’t screamed,” Hannibal said, ignoring the question.

Alandro coughed. “No one would hear me,” he said.

“Quite,” agreed Hannibal. He brandished his knife.

Alandro whimpered. “What do you want with me?”

“I desire your lungs,” Hannibal said. “You must understand, as a fellow gourmand.”

“My lungs? I don’t…”

Hannibal pressed his knee against him, hard. “You were correct, by the way. I do intend to kill you.”

“But—“

Hannibal slashed his throat in a swift motion. Alandro gagged as blood poured forth from his throat. Hannibal did his best to avoid the torrent. “Good boy,” he said as the life slipped from Alandro. “Are you quite done?” he asked, and the glassy stare Alandro offered in reply told him all he needed to know. “Well,” Hannibal said, “I think it’s time to carve you. Wouldn’t you say?”

Alandro, of course, did not respond.

Hannibal climbed off of him and shoved his corpse to the side. “Now, let’s see if I can saw through your generous layer of fat,” he said, and pressed the knife against Alandro’s chest.

 

* * *

 

 There was a light on in the living room when Hannibal arrived back home. When he let himself in he saw Will sitting in their armchair, the lamp beside him switched on.

“Where’ve you been?” Will asked.

Hannibal smiled and held up the cooler bag he was carrying. “A meal for Abigail’s party,” he explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I didn’t think you would mind,” Hannibal said.

Will shook his head. “I need to know,” he said. “What you do is dangerous.”

“I’m well equipped to handle any sort of danger,” Hannibal said.

“You don’t understand,” Will replied. “I love you. I need to know. Just in case…”

“In case what?” Hannibal asked. “You don’t think I’m capable?”

“It’s not a question of capability. It’s a question of… open dialogue.”

“And why do you think it needs to be open?”

“I deserve to know. I’m your lover.”

Hannibal paused. “I…”

“You what?” Will asked.

“I suppose you’re right. I apologize.”

“That’s not necessary,” Will said, “I just need to be in the know about your activities.”

“Technically, they’re your activities as well,” Hannibal noted.

“Only the ones I participate in,” Will said.

“Don’t you participate in all of them? You don’t stop me.”

“That’s not participation. It’s… acceptance of what I can’t change.”

“And when you kill with me?” Hannibal asked, still shouldering the cooler bag. “What do you call that?”

Will gave him a grim smile. “Participation, of course. But it’s something we share, not something you force on me.”

“You’re saying I forced _this_ ,” he raised the cooler bag, “on you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Hannibal frowned. “I know you have no moral opposition to this. Then what?”

“I want to know when you’re in danger. Think about it: if you died on one of these _collection_ runs, how long would it take me to learn of it?”

“Probably rather quickly,” Hannibal said. “They’d come for you first as my accomplice.”

Will stood up from his chair and crossed the room to Hannibal. He kissed him, not a strong kiss, but a lingering one. When he backed away, Hannibal’s eyes were still closed. “There’s nothing I’d rather be than your accomplice.”

“And that means the world to me,” Hannibal said, his eyes fluttering open. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Will said. “So, what did you acquire?”

“Lungs. Heart.”

“Party favors,” Will teased. “I’m sure they’ll be delicious, but that isn’t enough for an entire dinner party.”

“Of course not,” Hannibal said. “They’ll simply be peppered throughout. No one will leave this house unsatisfied.”

“You mean no one will leave this house without tasting… whoever that is.”

“His name was Giu—“

“No,” Will interrupted. “That’s not important. What’s important is that Giu-whoever is in that bag instead of shooting you in the head. Isn’t that a consideration for you? Maybe you should invest in a pistol.”

“A pistol? Nothing so crude.”

Will brushed the side of Hannibal’s face with his palm. “I don’t like it when you do these things on your own. One of these days you’re going to get hurt. Do you know what that would do to me? Christ, what that would do to Abigail? You have to be more careful.”

Hannibal nuzzled into Will’s hand. “I promise you, I take the utmost care on my excursions. And Christ has nothing to do with it.”

“You still need to tell me,” Will said. “I need to know where to look for you if… well. I don’t want to say it out loud.”

“I understand. I’ll keep you apprised.”

“Thank you,” Will said. “That’s all I ask. Now…” He took the cooler bag from Hannibal. “Let’s get this into the fridge, yeah?”

“God, do I love you,” Hannibal replied.

“The feeling is mutual,” Will said, brought him in for a kiss, and set off for the kitchen.


	3. Capitolo Tre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail, Hannibal, and Will attend Abigail's birthday party.

Abigail circulated the room, accepting congratulations and birthday wishes from the high society folk Hannibal had invited. She didn’t mind the attention or the social obligation, but it was very different from the birthdays she’d had in America. She made her way through the party and grabbed Will by the arm.

“Abigail? Are you alright?” he asked.

She was starting to sweat, and he must have noticed. “I just need a break,” she said.

“Sure,” Will said. They headed for the kitchen. Will grabbed a chicken _vol-au-vent_ on the way and popped it into his mouth.

“You’re always eating,” Abigail said with a smile.

“With Hannibal’s cooking, it’s hard not to,” he said. He wondered if what he’d just consumed was actually chicken, then thought better of his wondering. It was best not to think about it. “Come on, let’s sit.”

They pushed their way past the chefs and took a seat at the kitchen table, which bore trays of _canapés_. “There’re so many appetizers,” Abigail said.

“Don’t let Hannibal hear you call them that.”

“What would he want me to call them, then?”

“ _Hors d’oeuvre_.”

“He’s so proper,” she said, and they both chuckled. “I mean, I guess that goes without saying.”

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Will asked. She nodded, but he had to wonder if she was being honest.

“There isn’t anyone my age here, though.”

“I’m sorry about that. Hannibal just…”

“Doesn’t want a bunch of kids running around? I get it. My friends are too young for this kind of thing.”

“But you’re not?”

“I’m well trained, aren’t I?“

“Very,” Will agreed, but he had a sad look on his face. “You had to grow up fast.”

“I’m okay; it’s fine. I have you guys and stuff.”

“You have us and Gaga,” Will said.

She burst into a grin. “I totally forgot! That makes this worth it.”

“See? I knew you weren’t having a good time yet.” He squeezed her knee. “I know you don’t like being the center of attention. You’re almost done.”

“Yeah,” she said, still smiling. “I’ll just remember Gaga.”

“Want to get back out there?”

She shrugged. Will took that for agreement and led her back to the event. They found Hannibal in a conversation with an older woman and a middle-aged man.

“Cassandra!” Hannibal exclaimed, using Abigail’s assumed name. “I haven’t seen you all night."

She stopped and entered their little group. She forced a smile. “Hi,” she said lamely.

“Ah, the girl of the moment,” the man said. His English was impeccable, but he was definitely Italian. His striking blue eyes made her uncomfortable. Color contacts, maybe? “Happy birthday, my dear.”

Will moved a little closer to her.

“And who is this?” the woman asked, referring to Will.

“This is my partner, Leonardo.”

“The famous Leonardo,” the man said. “Roman never shuts up about you. Do you, Roman?”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed a little. A layman wouldn’t have caught it, but Abigail was well versed in Hannibal’s tiny expressions. “I suppose I don’t,” he said.

“Don’t embarrass the poor man,” the woman said. “And Cassandra, darling, isn’t this a wonderful party? How lucky you are to have a man like Roman as your father.”

“Yes, I’m very lucky,” Abigail said, taking care to say ‘yes’ instead of ‘yeah.’

“And what a lovely young woman you’re becoming,” the man said with a wink. Abigail cast her eyes down. Will moved a little closer.

“My, but I haven’t introduced myself,” the woman said. “I’m Alessa, and this is Roberto, my often rude protégé.”

“Oh please, Alessa. You honor me far too much,” Roberto said.

Alessa tittered laughter. Will and Abigail shared a look. “May I ask what your trade is?” Will asked.

“We’re artists,” Alessa explained.

“And quite talented ones, at that,” Hannibal said. “I should take you to their gallery, Leo. Their works are impressive.”

“Roman, you’re far too kind,” Alessa said.

“I only speak the truth,” Hannibal replied.

“Is the lovely Cassandra seeing anyone?” Roberto asked.

“Roberto! Don’t be so improper. I must apologize; it’s difficult to keep him under control.”

“That was inappropriate,” Will said testily.

“Apologies,” Roberto said. “I trust the lady will forgive me?” He looked at her like he was one of the _vol-au-vent._

“I suppose,” Abigail said. “…This time,” she added, to Alessa’s delight and Roberto’s ire. Hannibal and Will seemed amused, but held back their smirks.

“What a firebrand!” Alessa cried. “I simply adore her!”

“I think you’ve had too much champagne, Alessa,” Roberto said.

She stared daggers at him and drained her glass. “Be a dear and find me another glass,” she told Roberto.

Roberto took Abigails hand. She dutifully extended it, and he kissed it lightly, then released. “It’s been a pleasure, my lady,” he said, and disappeared through the crowd.

“Your protégé is rather rude,” Hannibal said. Will and Abigail’s eyes widened. They knew exactly what that meant.

Alessa’s eyes widened, too. “You speak out of turn, but I can’t tell a lie: I must agree.”

“Sometimes speaking out of turn is a necessity,” Hannibal said. “Now, Cassandra, why don’t you circulate? There are plenty of interesting people to talk to.”

Abigail popped up and kissed him on the cheek. “I think I’ll take Leo with me, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Hannibal said, and they took their leave of him.

“Just ‘Leo’?” Alessa asked after they’d disappeared into the crowd. “Oh! I forgot; he’s the girl’s stepfather. Tell me, what became of Lydia?”

“A boating accident,” Hannibal replied. “I don’t like to speak of it.”

“I apologize, sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me.”

“It’s quite alright.”

Roberto returned with a fresh glass. “Here you are,” he said, passing it off. “Did Cassandra take her leave?”

“Indeed,” Hannibal said. “Though she was pleased to meet you, I’m sure.” There was an edge to his voice, but if Roberto noticed it, he didn’t react.

“A shame, she seemed so interesting. Maybe I’ll see more of her—I mean you three—sometime.”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, eyes sparkling. “Maybe you will.”


	4. Capitolo Quattro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will arrives with a haul of alcohol.

Will stepped into the foyer and kicked the door shut behind him. His hands were too full to close it properly. He lugged a metric ton of plastic bags into the kitchen and dropped them on the counter. Their contents clinked against the granite.

Abigail perked up from her perch on the windowsill. She’d been reading some Sartre, whom she was rather fond of lately. Hannibal had turned her on to him, like most things she read. “Is that the stuff?” she asked.

“Yup,” Will replied.

She hopped down and approached the sacks. “You sure got a lot.”

He chuckled. “You’ve never seen me drink. You don’t know how high my tolerance is.”

“I thought we were getting Hannibal drunk, not you.”

“Tonight we’re getting _everyone_ drunk. He called for a limo to take us to Milan, so we don’t need a designated.”

“That must have been expensive,” she said.

“Extremely,” Will replied. “But you know Hannibal. He’d spare no expense for his family.”

“How did he get so rich, anyway?” she asked, pulling a bottle of Stoli from one of the bags. “You got the good stuff, huh?”

“I did, and I don’t know. Family money, I think. He couldn’t have made it all from his practice.”

“I wish I had that kind of cash to throw around,” she said.

Will pulled her in for a side-hug. “You do now, if you think about it.”

“I guess he’s like a dad, isn’t he? You are too. You’re like my new dads.”

“Abby has two daddies,” Will joked. “But that’s nice of you to say. I love you, Abs.”

“Love you too, Will,” she said, and smiled.

He gazed at her with affection for a moment, then: “Wanna test the product?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I’ll get the glasses.”

“Glasses?” Will asked. “Real men don’t need glasses.” He paused. “Or, in this case, real women.”

She wasted no time unscrewing the cap. It came off with a pop, and she tipped the bottle up against her lips for a swallow, then two, then to Will’s astonishment a third.

“Whoa, slow down there kiddo,” he said.

She dropped the bottle and scrunched up her face.

“Burns, doesn’t it?”

“Like hell,” she choked out.

“Don’t take so much at once. You don’t have to show off for me. Save it for Hannibal.”

“Where is he, anyway?” she asked.

“Beats me. He left before I did.”

“When does the limo get here? He can’t miss it.”

Will checked his watch. “We still have a while. It’ll take us around four hours to get to Milan, so we’ll have plenty of time to drink on the trip.”

“You mean _he’ll_ have plenty of time to drink on the trip.” She winked at him.

“Careful. We have to make sure he doesn’t drink too much to stand, or god forbid, throw up.”

“True,” she said. “But it sounds like you and I can get trashed as hell.”

“Trashed as hell, eh? I’ve never really seen you let go. It’ll be nice to see you have a little fun.”

“Like a normal twenty-two year old?” she asked.

He winced. “Yeah. Like a normal twenty-two year old.”

Silence passed between them before Abigail spoke up, “I don’t mind, you know, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t need to be normal. I never was, anyway. Marissa was my only real friend, and my dad… Well, I was never normal. At least with you and Hannibal I’m loved the right way.”

Will bit his lip.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I love you the right way. I’m never sure how Hannibal feels about anything.”

She shook her head. “No, he loves me. Maybe not in the way you do, but it’s still the right way. It’s just the right way _for him_.”

“Give me some of that,” Will said, and took the bottle from her. He matched her three swallows and came back sputtering. “Jesus. It’s been a while since I’ve had vodka.”

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “Stoli’s smooth. I can’t do whiskey like you can; it makes me sick.”

“Nothing makes me sick,” Will said with a smirk. He gestured toward her with the bottle. “More?”

“Always,” she said, and took another swig. “We could use some chaser.”

“Are you sure? We shouldn’t be hung over for the concert.”

“I’m young. I don’t get hangovers,” she said. “Besides, if we keep drinking from now until then we won’t run the risk.”

“Your knowledge of this is starting to concern me,” he said with a smirk.

“You’re the one who said I could go to parties.”

“Yeah, but… You’re being safe, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m always with friends. Especially Pablo.”

“Pablo?” Will asked.

“I guess you wouldn’t know him. He’s Spanish. He never drinks, and he’s super protective of me. I’m fine, Will. Don’t worry about me.”

“This Pablo… are you two…?”

“Are we what? …Oh god no. I think he’s gay, honestly. He’s never made a move.”

“Maybe he’s just respectful,” Will suggested.

“Maybe. I mean, I wouldn’t be _opposed_ …”

Will leveled his gaze at her. “You know you can’t have a boyfriend. You can’t get attached. It’s too dangerous.”

She squinted right back. “I thought we were doing the whole hiding-in-plain-sight thing.”

“That doesn’t mean you can tangle up with a local. If he gets too close he might find out who you are.”

“I know who I am. I’m Cassandra Fell.”

“Good girl,” Hannibal said, and closed the front door behind him. They hadn’t noticed him open it in the first place. “Cassandra Fell, daughter of Roman, stepdaughter of Leonardo.”

“Right,” she agreed.

“What’s all this, then?” Hannibal asked, gesturing toward the bags on the counter.

“Supplies,” Abigail said cheerily.

His eyes widened. “Get that off the counter this instant! We have company.”

“Hannibal, you can’t just—“

“I’ll do it myself, then,” he said, and snatched up the bags. He stowed them in a cupboard, turned, futzed with his hair, and went to open the front door.

“Who…?” Abigail wondered.

Will recognized the voices. “For the love of—“ He smashed his fist against his forehead. “It’s those two from the party.”


	5. Capitolo Cinque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roberto and Alessa pay a house call to Hannibal's domicile, with disastrous results.

“Oh, Roman, your house is simply divine,” Alessa said, surveying the foyer.

“Yes,” Roberto agreed. “Divine.”

“May I steal Roman away for a moment? It’ll only be a moment,” Will asked.

“Of course,” Alessa said. “He is your partner, after all.” She smiled and removed a small silver box from her handbag. “Do you mind?” she asked.

“I do, actually,” Hannibal said. “If you’d like to smoke, please do it outside.”

“Hmph.” She returned the cigarette case to her bag. “I suppose I’ll abstain.”

Will looked at Hannibal expectantly.

“We’ll return _pronto_ ,” Hannibal said. The pair of them headed off for the kitchen.

“Why are _they_ ,” Will jabbed his finger toward the foyer, “here?”

“Because I invited them, of course.”

“We’re leaving in—“

“I assure you, they won’t be staying long. Shall we return? I hate to leave poor Abigail alone to schmooze with them.”

“Yes,” Will said with more than a touch of bitterness. “Let’s.”

“Good,” Hannibal said. He pecked Will on the lips, but he wasn’t receptive. Hannibal gave a single shrug and left the kitchen.

“It’s bizarre seeing you out of your finery, my dear,” Alessa was saying as Will and Hannibal returned. “Do you always dress so… casually?”

Abigail was wearing a simple tee and jeans. She opened her mouth to speak, but Hannibal did before she could get anything out. “She’s still young, Alessa. She can wear whatever she wishes in her own home.”

“Quite right,” Roberto said. “I think she looks rather fetching, if I may say so.”

Abigail bristled. “Fetching?”

Roberto smiled toothily. “To a younger man, _of course_.”

“Of course,” Abigail said. She brushed her hair back with her hand. “I think I need a drink. Would any of you like a drink?”

“Cassie, don’t,” Will hissed in her ear.

“A drink? I assume you mean a glass of wine, dear?” Alessa said.

“Uh, yes,” Abigail said, attempting to salvage the situation. “I meant wine.”

“Then yes,” Hannibal said. “I think that’s a fine idea. Let’s move to the kitchen. I have a nice chardonnay chilling in the fridge.”

“Chardonnay? That sounds delightful. I’m sure it’ll be delicious. Your taste in wine is impeccable,” Alessa said.

“It is quite delicious,” Hannibal said, lingering on the ‘delicious.’

Roberto trailed behind Abigail as they all walked to the kitchen. Hannibal noticed him staring at her behind and curled his lip. Will noticed Hannibal in turn, and gave him a look of abject horror.

“There’s much to see in your abode,” Roberto said.

“Come again?” Will asked.

“The art. It’s fascinating.” He stared straight at Abigail as she settled herself on a kitchen stool. “I’m positively salivating.”

“Actually…” Abigail said, “I think I’m feeling a little tired. I’ll take my wine in my room.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Will said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

Alessa pursed her lips. “I was hoping to pick your brain some more, but one can’t decide when one loses interest in a conversation, can one?”

Abigail looked like she’d been slapped. “I haven’t lost interest,” she said. “I’m just tired.”

“Stay with us, dove. We’ll perk you right up,” Roberto said.

“If my daughter needs to sleep, then let her be,” Hannibal retorted.

“Please,” Abigail added.

“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call her ‘dove,’” Will said. Hannibal elbowed him, and Will shot him a dirty look. These people were distasteful, and Will was becoming increasingly unwilling to play the game with them.

“Apologies,” Roberto said. He bowed with a flourish of his hand. “I shall call her Cassandra, and that will be that.”

“Thanks,” Abigail said. “I’m not much for doves, myself. My father and I used to hunt them.”

Hannibal snorted.

“Are you quite alright?” Alessa asked.

“Ah, yes, something merely caught in my throat. I’m fine.” His eyes twinkled in amusement as he poured Abigail’s glass of wine. “ _We_ used to go dove hunting, it’s true.”

“Truly? I can’t picture you hunting, Roman.”

“There’s plenty you don’t know about me,” Hannibal said. “Now then, Cassandra, take your wine and up to bed with you.”

“Sorry,” Abigail said, picking up her glass. “It was good seeing you again.”

“Indeed,” Roberto said. “Very good.” She took her leave, and he watched Hannibal pour his wine with great interest. “I haven’t have a nice glass of wine since your party,” he said.

“That was only two nights ago,” Alessa said. “Forgive Roberto. He’s somewhat of a lush.”

“Only when it comes to fine wines,” he said, chuckling. He took his glass, swirled the amber liquid around below his nose, and took a sip. “To quote my counterpart, _simply divine_.”

“I only serve the best,” Hannibal said. He poured a glass for Alessa and one for himself.

“You must be proud to have such a beautiful daughter,” Alessa said after she’d had a sip.

“Extremely,” Hannibal said. He touched Will’s arm. “And so is Leo. He’s just as much her father as I.”

“But he’s only her stepfather,” Roberto said, raising his glass to his lips. He realized his mistake and jerked it down. The wine sloshed against the sides of the glass, threatening to spill out. Thankfully, none escaped. “I apologize. That was thoughtless.”

“You’re doing a lot of that tonight,” Will said, lips pulled into a grim line. “Apologizing.”

“He always has plenty to apologize for. Don’t you, Roberto?” Alessa asked. The situation seemed to entertain her.

“I can be a bit brash,” Roberto said. “I’m sure gentlemen such as yourselves can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“I can indeed,” Hannibal said. “Leo?”

Will paused in deliberation. “Yes, I suppose I can. But I _am_ her father. You’d be wise not to question that.”

“No one would ever accuse him of being wise,” Alessa said. “Tact isn’t his strong suit.”

“What is, pray tell?” Hannibal asked.

“Give me a brush and a palette and I can paint my way out of any offense,” Roberto said with the same toothy grin he’d displayed earlier.

The four of them sipped their wine, looking between each other, waiting for someone to speak.

“Roman tells me you have quite the art collection,” Alessa said finally, addressing Will. “I’d love to see it.”

“Art collection…?” Will asked. He didn’t have any such thing. Then it dawned on him: the reason Hannibal had invited them over tonight.

“Yes, Leo,” Hannibal prodded. “Your art collection. In the gallery?”

“My, you have a gallery?” Alessa asked.

Will clicked his tongue, playing along. “Nothing so special. It’s what my better half calls my art room.”

“Fantastic,” Roberto said. “I’d love to see it, but…”

“But?” Hannibal asked.

“It’s a shame that the lovely Cassandra isn’t here to join us. Alas, we’ll have to forge on without her. Please, lead the way.”

Will honestly wasn’t sure where Hannibal intended to take them, but he was ready for what came next.

“It’s in the cellar,” Hannibal said. “Away from damaging sunlight.” He set his glass on the counter and gestured for them to follow.

Will fell in step behind him. “Why tonight?” he whispered before Alessa and Roberto could get close enough to hear.

“A birthday present for Cassandra,” Hannibal replied, using her assumed name in case their guests picked it up.

They didn’t. “A cellar. I hope it isn’t musty,” Alessa said as she came up to them.

“Or damp,” Roberto added.

“No need to worry,” Hannibal said. “It’s climate controlled.”

“It’s awfully dark down here,” Roberto said. They’d entered the cellar, or what Hannibal had referred to as their ‘art room.’

He led them into the inky darkness. “The lights are motion activated,” he explained.

“Are you quite sure?” Alessa asked. The four of them were fully in the room now, but no lights cut through the haze of darkness.

“They _should_ be working…” Hannibal said. He was on the other side of the room now. “Leo, would you help me?”

Will knew what that meant. He ever so quietly closed the door behind them and not so quietly bolted it. He knew Hannibal was smiling, wherever he was.

“Did you just… what’s going on here?” Alessa demanded.

“Turn the lights on this instant!” Roberto cried.

“I don’t think he’s going to,” Will said. “Are you, _Hannibal_?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not.”


	6. Capitolo Sei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Abigail have a heart to heart.

Will helped Hannibal toss Alessa’s lifeless corpse into the cold storage locker. She landed on Roberto’s body with a thud. “Was this really necessary?” Will asked.

“Roberto was leering after Abigail. I think him quite rude,” Hannibal replied.

“Well,” Will said, “they’re high society. People will look for them.”

“Let them look. My tracks are thoroughly covered.”

Will peered down his glasses at him. “If you say so,” he said. “I guess I’ll go tell Abigail.”

“Yes.” Hannibal checked his watch. “We’ll be leaving in two hours twenty. Make sure she’s dressed for the occasion.”

Will scanned him up and down. “I’d say you’re the one who needs to change for the occasion. You can’t wear a suit and tie to a Lady Gaga concert.”

Hannibal looked aghast. “Then what can I wear?”

“She said a button-down should be fine. You can wear a tie if you want, but…” Will shook his head. “And jeans. I’d suggest jeans.”

Hannibal just stared at him, jaw half-dropped.

“You _do_ own jeans, don’t you?”

“I… yes, but… alright. I’m willing to suffer any indignity for our Abigail.”

“Good.” Will patted him on the shoulder, then stepped back, eyes widened. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“Why the vulgarity?” Hannibal asked.

“I got blood on your shoulder.”

Hannibal abruptly kissed him full on the lips. They broke apart, but he reached his hand into Will’s hair and pushed him in for another.

“What was that for?” Will asked. “I just stained your shirt.”

“Stained shirt or not, I adore you.”

Will had stars in his eyes. Every kiss was like a first kiss with them. “And I you,” Will said. “Let me go break the news, and then… we can have a shower.”

“I would enjoy that. I would enjoy that very much.” Hannibal glanced around the blood-soaked room. “We can clean this up on our return.”

“The cellar isn’t going anywhere, after all.”

Hannibal kissed him again, and pushed him toward the door. “Go. Tell her about the nice meal we’re going to have.”

“Maybe we’ll start with Alessa,” Will suggested. “Roberto looks a bit stringy.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Hannibal said.

With that, they filed out of the cellar and up the stairs, Hannibal to their bedroom and Will to Abigail’s loft. Will paused halfway to the landing and backtracked, grabbed the bottle of Stoli, and brought it to her room.

 

* * *

 

 

“What’s wrong?” Abigail asked.

Posters and art prints completely covered her walls. It was just as well, considering the ugly, peeling wallpaper beneath them. Lady Gaga featured on more than a few of them. One in particular caught his eye. “Artpop?” Will asked.

“It’s an album,” she explained. “But I asked what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Shouldn’t you be with Roberto and Alessa? And why do you have the vodka?” She sat cross-legged on her bed, her laptop open in front of her.

“Here,” Will said, handing her the bottle. “Drink. A lot.”

She did as she was told. He was surprised; the girl really could handle her liquor. “So what then?” she asked.

“What do you think of them?” he asked in reply.

“Roberto and Alessa? They’re awful.”

“Elaborate?”

“Alessa’s so pretentious, more than Hannibal even, and Roberto… He thinks he’s sly, but he’s such an obvious pervert. Are they gone? Can I come downstairs now?”

“Eh… they’re gone alright. They’re goners, really.”

“You don’t mean?”

“I do mean. They’re on ice for when we get back.”

Abigail threw herself back on her cushy purple comforter. “Can’t he just control himself for one fucking minute?”

“Language,” Will said.

“Hypocrite,” she replied, a slight smile on her face.

“Very true. And no, apparently he can’t.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re supposed to be hiding out, but he’s just jump-starting his _career_ again. Can’t you get him to stop?”

“Not any more than you can,” Will said. “It’s in his nature. Besides, it’s not like we’re not complicit. You’ve killed, too. We both have.”

“Have you, actually?” she asked.

“Killed anyone?” Will replied.

“Yeah. Have you killed anyone?”

“I killed Randall Tier,” he said.

“That was self defense. I guess what I’m asking is…” she trailed off.

Will nodded. “You mean have I _murdered_ anyone.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That.”

“I’ve been complicit like I said, but I haven’t made any killing blows. Hannibal once asked me if I was an observer or a participant. I didn’t know what to say, and he said that my not knowing made me a participant in itself. I don’t think he was wrong.”

“I killed Marissa’s brother,” she said. “Does that count as murder?”

“That was self defense too, wasn’t it?”

She fell silent, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t make the words come out.

Will nudged her. “You alright, Abby?”

“There was… I tried to kill your friend. You know that, right? Dr. Bloom?”

“Alana survived. You haven’t murdered anyone. Don’t worry yourself.”

Abigail bit her lip hard, then said, “What if I did kill someone? Would it change how you thought of me?”

“Did pushing Alana out of that window change the way I thought about you?”

“No,” she said, “I guess it didn’t.”

“Then probably not.” He patted her leg. “You should get changed. The limo will be here soon.”

She burst out of her gloom into a bright smile. “I got you a shirt, remember?”

Will grimaced. “I remember. I’m only wearing it for you,” he reminded her.

“Oh, I know,” she said. She bounced up to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re the best, Will. Really. I couldn’t ask for a better dad.”

“Even Hannibal?” he ventured.

“Even Hannibal,” she said. “But keep that between us.”

“Of course,” Will said. He couldn’t help but grin. “Now where’s that shirt?”

She hopped over to her dresser and pulled it out of the top drawer. “Think fast,” she said, and flung it at him.

He caught it deftly and held it up to the light. An image of Lady Gaga and the words ‘Little Monster’ were emblazoned on the front. Hannibal would never approve. “So I’ll wear this. Just for your birthday.”

“Only for my birthday?”

“Hush,” he said, took the shirt, and opened the door to her room. “Just… don’t tell Hannibal what we just talked about, okay? It might hurt his feelings.”

“My lips are sealed,” she said, and pantomimed zipping her lips shut.

Will chuckled. “Good,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.” He closed the door and descended the staircase.


	7. Capitolo Sette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will have a conversation before the limo arrives.

Hannibal was waiting in their bedroom. “Will,” he greeted. “What’s that?”

Will blushed. “Nothing,” he said, “it’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing.”

“It’s just… it’s just a stupid shirt Abs wants me to wear.”

“Abigail? Well, let’s see it.”

Will reluctantly displayed it for him. He could almost feel Hannibal’s distaste.

“You’re not _really_ going to wear that, are you?”

“I am,” Will replied. “I am because she wants me to.”

“Hmm. That’s the only reason I would accept.”

“I’m glad you’re not angry,” Will said.

“Angry? I could never be angry at you, dear Will. Come here.”

Will joined him on the bed. Hannibal took the shirt from his hand and set it aside. He leaned down for a kiss, soft and tender. They locked eyes for a while, neither moving, neither speaking, just gazing. “The car will be here soon,” Will said, breaking the silence.

“Not too soon,” Hannibal replied.

“Too soon for what?”

“Too soon to wash the blood off your hands,” he said. He drew Will’s knuckles to his lips and gave them a gentle kiss. “Didn’t Abigail notice?”

Will hadn’t even considered it. “If she did, she didn’t say anything.”

“She’s a perceptive girl,” Hannibal said. “I’m sure she picked up on it.”

Will groaned and raised himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He put his head in his hands. “You don’t think she…?”

“Idon’t think, I know,” Hannibal said. “And the fact that it didn’t matter to her speaks to how highly she thinks of you. Shouldn’t that be a happy thing?”

“Happy,” Will said, tasting the word. “Happy for who? For me? For Abigail?”

“For both of you.”

“What about Alessa and Roberto? Is it happy for them?”

Hannibal frowned. “You and I both know I didn’t fillet them on a whim. They slighted our Abigail, both of them.”

“Roberto in particular,” Will said.

“Yes. But Alessa entertained the notion. They said quite a bit more at the party than what you heard.”

“Bad things?”

Hannibal reached out to touch Will’s hand. “The worst. Otherwise they wouldn’t be dinner.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that,” Will said. He stood and unfastened his belt, began to pull it off.

“What I eat?”

“No,” Will said, sliding off his khakis. “What _you_ eat doesn’t bother me. It’s what _we_ eat. We’re not so used to consuming other humans.”

“Abigail is,” Hannibal said. “You’re newer to this than she.”

“If you say so,” Will muttered, unbuttoning his shirt. “Look, would you get undressed? I have a shower to take, and I don’t want to take it alone.”

“So bossy,” Hannibal said. He came up behind Will and kissed his neck. “I like it. You should take charge more often.”

“It’s hard, with you—“

“Hard, is it?” Hannibal interrupted. He placed his hand on Will’s bare chest and trailed it ever southward. “Hard in what way?”

Will shuddered. “You always know how to make me stop talking,” he said.

“I don’t mean to make you stop talking,” Hannibal replied. He reached purchase, and Will sighed in response. “Let’s have that shower now.”

“I think that would be a good idea,” Will said weakly. He was powerless to Hannibal’s whims now, and Hannibal knew it. Luckily, Will wasn’t on the menu. At least… not _that_ kind of menu.

“I can hardly believe I’m going to see a Lady Gaga performance,” Hannibal said, his other hand caressing Will’s cheek.

“It just goes to show how much you care about her, I guess,” Will said in a shaky voice. Hannibal was teasing him, and he was especially vulnerable to his brand of teasing.

“How much I care about both of you,” Hannibal corrected. “I wouldn’t do this just for Abigail, and I wouldn’t do this just for you. It was a joint attack.”

Will leaned his head against Hannibal’s hand. “I’m so glad we’re doing this together. It’s like we’re a real family, and she’s a real daughter.”

Hannibal snatched his hand away. Will looked his way to find a determined look on his face. “We _are_ a real family,” Hannibal said. “And she _is_ our daughter.”

Will swallowed and nodded. “Right, I know that. I’m just saying—“

“You’re just saying nothing,” Hannibal snapped. As warm as he normally was toward Will and Abigail, he could still present as the terrifying _Il Mostro_ that he was sometimes.

Will shrunk away from him. “Should I take my shower alone?”

Hannibal sighed. He rubbed at his eyes. “No, no. I’m sorry, dearest. I didn’t mean to go on the offensive.”

“Well,” Will said, “you kind of did.”

“I did apologize.”

“Is that an _actual_ apology, or a Roberto apology?”

“It hurts that you would even ask,” Hannibal replied, turning away. “Take your shower. I’ll change my clothes; there’s no blood on my skin.”

“Are you sure?” Will asked.

“I checked.”

Will nodded again. “I wish you would come with me.”

“I’m sure you do,” Hannibal said.

“Don’t be like this, Hann. It’s her birthday. Be happy, or at least pretend to be.”

“Oh,” Hannibal said, his frown turning up. “I’m not pretending. I was just irritated. These things happen.”

“These things happen,” Will repeated. He ran his hand across his chest. “Now come shower with me. I’m getting cold.”

“If you wish,” Hannibal said. “You know… even if I get testy sometimes, I never mean to do anything but please you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Will said, but deep down he wasn’t entirely sure that he agreed. “Come on.” He took Hannibal’s hand and stood, gently pulling him off of the bed. They stood face to face, Hannibal fully dressed, Will shirtless.

“You’re exposed,” Hannibal said.

“So I am.”

“It’s not a bad sight,” Hannibal teased.

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Will teased back. He led him to the master bath by the hand. “And Hannibal…”

“Yes, dearest?”

“You might want to get _exposed_ yourself before we hop in.” Will gently tugged on Hannibal’s tie, letting his hand drift down to the end before releasing it. “You can’t get that suit wet, after all.”

“Tsk tsk. You underestimate the lengths I’d go to to have a shower with you,” Hannibal said. “But…” He slacked his tie and removed it. “I should go put this—“

“On the floor, Hannibal. Put it on the floor. Just this once.”

Hannibal searched Will’s face frantically. “It’s Armani.”

“So? It’s a small price to pay for my happiness,” Will said. “Weren’t you just saying you would sacrifice anything?”

“I… suppose I was.” He stared down at his tie, clenched in his fist. He let a breath hiss out between his teeth and dropped it to the floor.

“See? Not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” Hannibal agreed reluctantly. “There’s something that would make it better…”

“I think I know what you mean,” Will said. He closed the distance between them for a kiss. He nipped at Hannibal’s bottom lip just the way he knew he liked it. “Was that it?” he asked, panting as they parted.

“It was,” Hannibal replied.

“You still have a few more layers to take off,” Will said. He removed Hannibal’s suit jacket and piled it near his tie. Hannibal let out a whimper. “You sound like one of my dogs,” Will joked, but the thought made him sad, too. He hoped Alana and Margot were taking good care of them.

Hannibal shook him off and undid the top buttons of his shirt, revealing his pale upper chest and the beginnings of his chest hair. “What are you staring at?” he asked, pausing.

Will crossed his arms. “Just you,” he said. “Keep going.”

Hannibal worked his fingers down his shirt, popping button after button, until his shirt joined his tie and jacket beside him.

“Now we’re even,” Will said. He gripped Hannibal’s lower back and pulled him close.

“We don’t have enough time for this,” Hannibal said, his breath hot against Will’s neck.

“Maybe not,” Will said, “but I’m sure they can keep the meter running.”

Hannibal felt for Will through his boxers. “I certainly have the funds.”

“Yes,” Will agreed. “You do.” He went for Hannibal’s belt. “Turn the water on? It takes forever to get hot,” he said.

“We’re more than hot enough, wouldn’t you say?”

“Cute, but incredibly cheesy.” Will went in for another kiss. It was longer this time, lingering. Then once more, tongues entering the fray this time. “You’re right,” he said, coming away breathing hard. “Maybe we are hot enough.”

Hannibal winked. “Attaboy.”


	8. Capitolo Otto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bottles are popped en route to Milan.

Abigail positively glowed. The limousine was more luxurious than anything she’d experienced outside of Hannibal’s high society functions. She gazed up at the little stars sparkling on the roof.

“Cool, huh?” Will asked.

“Beyond cool,” she said. She looked over to Hannibal, who was seated on Will’s other side. “Thanks, Hannibal.”

“Thank Will,” he said. “This was all his idea.”

“The limo, too?” she asked.

“No,” Will replied, “that was all Hannibal. He’s talking about the tickets.”

“I can’t thank you enough, then. Both of you. I’m so excited.”

“No problem, Abs,” Will said. “Now then…”

Hannibal sighed and covered his face with his palm. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” Abigail said. She reached into her backpack and pulled out two generously-sized bottles of vodka. “Think fast,” she said, and tossed one at Hannibal.

He caught it and peered at the label. “Stolichnaya. Russian?”

“Latvian,” Abigail said.

“I’m impressed,” Will said. “It _is_ Latvian. But Latvia was once Soviet, so at least it used to be Russian.”

“Good enough,” Hannibal said. He unscrewed the top. “Hmm.” He swirled the bottle and took a whiff as if it were wine. He recoiled from the scent, and Abigail almost fell over laughing.

“You don’t smell vodka, Hannibal,” she said.

“Then what do you do with it?” he asked, rubbing at his nose.

“You drink it,” Will said. “Don’t think about it, just… drink it.”

“But it’s warm. Is it meant to be warm?”

Will and Abigail shared a glance. “Well…” Abigail began, “not exactly. But you’re a man, aren’t you? You can handle it.”

“Let’s get some ice at the very least,” Hannibal said, and pulled out a shelf. Will and Abigail hadn’t noticed, but the limo had an icemaker. “Hand me a glass, would you?” he asked Will.

Will grabbed a glass from the little row of glassware that lined part of the far wall. “Happy?” he asked, handing the cup to hannibal.

Hannibal didn’t reply. He was too focused. He put three cubes in the glass and tipped a shot or so of vodka or so on top of them.

“Come on,” Abigail said. “You can do more than that.”

“Truly?” Hannibal asked.

“Sure,” Will said. “Live a little.” He popped the cap on the other bottle and took a swallow. “Abby?”

She took it from him and had a few sips of her own. “Your turn,” she told Hannibal.

He grimaced and held the glass up to the light. He studied it for a moment, then downed it in one go. He gagged immediately. “Water!” he gasped.

Will dug around for a bottle of spring water as fast as he could, but Abigail just rocked back in her chair and giggled.

By the time Hannibal had gotten some water in him, she’d stopped giggling and Will had started. “What in God’s name…” Hannibal choked out.

“You’re not supposed to take it all at once,” Abigail said with tears in her eyes. “You sip it.”

“Or,” Will said, trying to get control of himself, “if you’re experienced like we are, you chug it. Isn’t that right, Abs?”

“Quite right, sir,” she said, mimicking Hannibal’s voice. She gulped some more down and smacked her lips. “That really is smooth.”

“The pricier it is, the better it goes down,” Will said. “Usually.”

“Isn’t that true of anything?” Hannibal asked. He was breathing normally now.

“Not always,” Will said. “That cheese you like is atrocious.”

“You’re only saying that on liquid courage,” Hannibal replied.

“Probably,” Will said, taking the bottle again. “Are you complaining?” He took a swig and passed it back to Abigail.

“Isn’t there a concept of mixed drinks? Cocktails?” Hannibal asked as Abigail poured him a new drink.

“Not today,” she said. “And not if you want to be a real man. Right, Will?”

“Right.”

“You two are impossible,” Hannibal grumbled. He took the glass and held it up to the light just as he had the last time.

“Sips, Hann. Sips,” Will reminded him.

Hannibal raised the glass to his lips and took a small swallow. He winced, but he didn’t seem offended by the taste.

“Well?” Abigail asked.

“It does have a certain… zing to it.”

“A zing?” That set Abigail laughing again.

“Have you had too much to drink, or are you really that happy?” Hannibal asked.

“I’m really this happy,” she said. “Being with you guys… it’s been amazing, but this is the first time we’ve really done something _for me_. And for you two to come with me? It’s the best birthday present I could’ve asked for.”

Will wrapped her into a hug and kissed her on the cheek. “We love you, Abigail.”

“Yes,” Hannibal said. “We really do.”

“It’s amazing,” Abigail said. “I finally have a real family that _respects_ me. I was never anything to my father other than a tool.”

“He loved you, you know,” Hannibal said. “He wouldn’t have killed those girls otherwise.”

Abigail clammed up, so Will jumped in. “We’re aware of your thoughts on the matter, Hannibal, but _you’re_ aware that we don’t agree with them. Don’t spoil her fun.”

“It’s fine, Will,” she said. “I’m used to it by now.”

“I just want you to understand, Abigail. You’ve always been loved. Don’t think for a moment that there was ever a time where no one loved you for the special girl that you are.”

“I get it,” Abigail said. “Hey, Will? You’re hogging the bottle.”

He laughed and handed it to her. “Hannibal has to drink if you do,” he said. “It’s only fair, you being the birthday girl and all.”

“That’s right, I am the birthday girl. So drink up.” She pulled a long drag of vodka down her throat, and Hannibal took a swallow of his own in return. He squinted a little, but he didn’t go for his water. “See?” she said. “Not so bad, is it?”

“I suppose not,” he said. “How much of this do you expect me to drink?”

“We’ll see,” Will said. “It depends how fast you get drunk.”

“ _Drunk_ ,” Hannibal said in amazement. “I never thought I would get _drunk_. It seems so base.”

“It’s not base. It’s fun,” Abigail piped in. “Come on. Let’s have another drink.”

“Might as well,” Hannibal said, and they matched each other gulp for gulp as the limo rolled onward.


	9. Nono Capitolo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road trip's last stretch yields an unexpected development.

Abigail and Will had gone through a fifth between them, and they were _out of it_. Abigail didn’t intend to stop yet, though. She opened a fresh bottle and stared down its neck.

“Looking for something?” Will asked. His eyes were half-lidded, and color rose high in his cheeks.

“Just thinking,” Abigail replied. She finally took a drink, then looked over to Hannibal. “How’re you holding up?”

“Up?” Hannibal asked weakly. “Sideways.”

“That bad, huh?” Will said. He leaned back into his seat. “You ought to slow down.”

“I agree,” Abigail said, then added, “for now.”

Hannibal groaned and set his glass aside. “How long have we been drinking?”

“Oh, a while,” Abigail said. “So what do you think? Is vodka all you’ve ever dreamt it to be?”

“It has a quality,” Hannibal replied. “But I can’t say for sure in this…  state.”

“Come, on, just say it. You can’t say for sure while you’re…”

Hannibal sighed. “…Drunk. I can’t say for sure while I’m drunk. Are you pleased?”

“You know she is,” Will said. “A birthday dream come true, right Abs?”

Abigail’s smile widened, but she didn’t reply. She sipped some Stoli, then handed the bottle off to Will.

“Can’t I have a break?” he asked with pleading eyes. He looked like one of the puppies he’d left back home. No, that was wrong; he looked like one of the puppies he’d left back _in the States_. _Home_ was Italy now. Home was wherever Hannibal and Abigail were.

Abigail clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Lightweight,” she chided.

“We’ve been through an entire bottle,” Will said, shaking his head.

“Fine. We’ll all have a break.”

“Thank god,” Hannibal muttered.

“Don’t thank him yet,” Abigail said. She fiddled with the control console until the driver’s partition slid down. “Um. English?” she asked him.

“ _Si_ ,” he replied. “Ah, yes.”

“Is there an AUX cord back here? To play music?”

The driver met her eye in the rearview. “Bluetooth,” he said in a deliciously heavy accent. “The TV, it is a touchscreen. It has Bluetooth.”

Her breath caught in her throat. His gaze gleamed deep chestnut, and in her inebriated state she found herself thinking she could swim in the deep pools of it. His accent didn’t help matters, either. She got herself together as best she could, and asked, “Bluetooth?”

“Wireless?” he tried.

“Oh! I’ve never… We’ve never had much technology around. _Grazie_.”

“ _Prego_ ,” he replied, locking eyes again before returning his attention to the road.

Abigail fumbled for the partition switch and waited until it had purred its way closed. She cursed herself. Why couldn’t she have come up with something more enchanting to say than _Bluetooth_? “Bluetooth, huh?”

“You really don’t know what it is?” Hannibal asked. He spoke slowly to prevent slurring. He couldn’t suffer such an indignity as slurred speech.

“I guess not. So how does it work?”

“Here,” Will said. He reached out and tapped the blank TV screen. It blinked to life, offering a host of features, from movies to video games, and even porn. He tapped the word ‘sync’ and selected Abigail’s iPhone from the list of available devices. It connected after a few moments.

“So I just…?” Abigail asked.

“Just use your phone like an iPod, and it’ll pick it up,” Will said.

She set her music on shuffle, and her eyes lit up in wonder as an inoffensive indie song began to play over the limo’s stereo. “Cool.”

“What’s this?” Will asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t even know. I have so much music on this thing that I’ve barely gotten a chance to listen to it at all.” She started to scroll through her playlists, searching for one in particular.

“May I put in a request?” Hannibal asked.

“Hannibal, please,” Will said. “She’s the birthday girl.”

“No,” she said, and brushed aside a stray lock of hair. “It’s fine. He’s being a good sport drinking. So?”

“Janacek’s _Sinfonietta_ ,” Hannibal suggested.

Will groaned. “That hardly fits the occasion.”

Abigail had to agree. “We’re going to see Gaga, Hannibal, we’re not going to the symphony.”

“Don’t remind me. No, Will’s right, you’re the birthday girl. You choose.”

“Have you even _heard_ Gaga before?” Abigail asked.

“No,” Hannibal replied without hesitation.

“Do you want to?”

“Does he have a choice?” Will slid in.

“Nope,” Abigail said, laughing. “He doesn’t.”

“There’s nothing I can say to change her mind,” Hannibal said. “She’s a woman of determination.”

“Damn straight,” she said. She tapped her phone, and the first notes of _Bad Romance_ boomed out from the speakers.

Will’s eyes lit up. “I love this song!” The vodka had him completely at ease.

“You do?” Abigail asked. “I didn’t think you’d even recognize it.”

“ _Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah…_ ” he sang, then fell into a fit of laughter.

Abigail grinned, raised the Stoli to her lips, and kissed it. “God bless the Latvians.”

The three of them sat in silence for a while, smiling, listening to the music.

“This actually has lyrics,” Hannibal spoke up.

“Most songs do,” Will replied, toes tapping.

“Of course. But… they’re well thought out. Was that a Hitchcock reference? What were the lines?”

Abigail nodded. “ _I want your_ Pyscho _, your_ Vertigo _schtick. Want you in my_ Rear Window _, baby you’re sick._ ”

“Clever,” Hannibal said. “Tell me, Abigail, is there anyone in your _Rear Window_?”

“You mean am I seeing anyone?” she asked, brows raised. “No. I’m not. You know I can’t.”

“I thought not. But have you been tempted?”

She opened her mouth to say ‘no’, then flushed scarlet and shut it again. She didn’t believe in lying to them. Maybe if Hannibal had asked her before they left, when she was a little more sober and a little less giddy, the answer would’ve come more easily. She struggled to find the right words to work through the situation. “Recently,” she decided. “Very recently.”

“I thought as much,” Hannibal said. “As recently as a few minutes ago, in fact. Or am I wrong?”

“Was it that obvious?”

Will caught himself lip syncing and forced his mouth shut before speaking. “Did I miss something?”

“The driver,” Hannibal explained. “They linked eyes. She looked flustered.”

“Don’t crush on the help, Abby,” Will said. Abigail was horrified. He just winked at her.

“Yes, don’t,” Hannibal agreed, apparently not grasping the humor Will had intended to convey.

“I’m not,” she pouted. “I’m just drunk. But I’m not drunk _enough_. Does anyone else feel a little bit way too sober right now?”

The track changed from _Bad Romance_ to _Alejandro_. Will and Abigail paired grins and wailed along: “ _I know that we are young, and I know that you may love me…”_

“I’m escorting children,” Hannibal grumbled, but he was smiling, too. He reached for his vodka glass and took another swallow. He was actually beginning to enjoy the taste. He raised the cup to his lips once more, but jumped when his phone buzzed. He set it back down, reached into his jeans pocket, removed the cell, and stared at the screen. His jaw dropped.

“Who is it, Hann?”

“Bedelia, of all people,” he replied. “She’s…”

“Bedelia?” Abigail asked. “Your psychiatrist friend?”

Will waved her off. “She’s what?”

Hannibal rubbed at his eyes. “Here,” he said. “She’s here.”

“Here where? Here Italy, or…?”

“Here Milan. She’s going to the performance.”

Will leaned forward. “Does she know we are, too?”

“No,” Hannibal said. “Hmm.”

“Is this bad?” Abigail asked. “Please tell me we don’t have to go back home.”

“I dunno, Abby. Is it bad?”

Hannibal gulped vodka. “It could be worse,” he said. “She doesn’t know we’re in in Italy, too, but… I don’t think she would do anything if she found out.”

“Right,” Abigail said. “Because you’re friends.”

He patted her knee. “Because we’re friends,” he said, but he didn’t sound too sure of himself.

“What did she say, anyway?” Will asked.

Hannibal cleared his throat and held his phone up. “Bongiorno _! I haven’t written in a while, I know, but I thought you’d find my current predicament deliciously, terribly funny. My little niece is dragging me to a Lady Gaga concert in Milan. I’ve never been to a pop show before. I’m sure you’re laughing, or maybe gloating, but I’m approaching it with an open mind. Maybe I’ll have fun after all… when pigs fly. As ever, text me if you need something. I’ll report back after the event to regale you with all the gory details. Kisses. Bedelia du Maurier.”_

“We might run into her,” Abigail said quietly. “I mean, I wouldn’t recognize her, but…”

“She’d recognize you,” Will said.

“Doesn’t she think I’m dead?”

“She’s the only one who doesn’t,” Hannibal replied. “She knows everything except where we are.”

“But she didn’t go to the police?” Abigail asked.

“No. She’s a friend, as you said. Still, though… I’m not sure I’m comfortable with her knowing our location.”

“It’s only Bedelia,” Will said. “She’s hardly a threat. It’ll be alright. Besides, out of the thousands and thousands of people there I highly doubt we’ll run into her.”

“Fair enough,” Hannibal said with a sigh. “Doubt will have to suffice.”

They listened to the album as it spun around from _Alejandro_ to _Monster_ to _Speechless._

“This one’s about alcoholics,” Abigail said brightly.

“Then it’s good enough for us,” Will said.

“This is… quite better than I expected,” Hannibal said. “She writes her own songs?”

“Yup,” Abigail replied. “All of them.”

“Well,” Hannibal said, sinking down into his seat. “Color me ‘Speechless.’”


	10. Capitolo Dieci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally time for the artRAVE, and Abigail brought some party favors.

Hannibal squeezed Abigail’s wrist hard. She stopped walking and craned her neck to see what he was looking at. Someone in fishnets and heels had just walked out of the men’s restroom. “Are they… is that… or…?”

Abigail rolled her eyes. “Yes, he’s a man. A man in stockings and stilettos.”

“But… why?”

“Because it’s the artRAVE,” Will said.

“…artRAVE?”

“The name of the concert? You really aren’t prepared for this at all.”

“I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.”

“That’s nice of you,” Abigail said tersely. “But we’ve gotta go, guys! We need to get as close as we can.”

Hannibal set off in step with them, swaying a little in his drunken state.

“So, Hannibal,” Abigail began, “what _would_ happen if we ran into Bedelia? Would she pretend she didn’t notice us?”

“Probably,” he replied. “I hope so.”

“I don’t think it would be so bad to see her again,” Will said as they brushed through the crowd. “I didn’t know her all that well, but she did seem like the kind of person I’d like to know.” He left out the fact that he’d met her in prison.

“It’s a question of safety,” Hannibal said. “We’re the only ones who even know which continent we’re on. To have it narrowed down to country, even by one who might be sympathetic? That would be a problem.”

“I guess,” Abigail said. “It’s not like you don’t take risks all the time already. I mean, Alessa and Roberto, anyone?”

“I can’t help my urges,” Hannibal said, sounding hurt. “Here’s our gate.”

The floor was still mostly empty, owing to how long they’d stood in line outside the event. Abigail had them there at the crack of dawn. They picked a spot stage right and looked around. Catwalks spread out over the floor from the stage. The trio stood maybe eight feet from the edge of a platform at the end of one of the walks. “She’ll be right there! We’ll almost be able to touch her!” Abigail gushed.

“So exciting! Right, Hanni?” Will asked.

“You know I hate it when you call me _Hanni_.”

“Right, Hann?” Will corrected, using his preferred pet name.

Hannibal smiled and stroked the side of Will’s cheek with his thumb. “I adore you.”

Will took Hannibal’s hand from his face and gave it a soft kiss before releasing it. “I adore you right back.” He pressed his lips to Hannibal’s.

Hannibal disengaged as quickly as he could. “Will! We’re in public! And we’re _men_!”

Will’s eyes twinkled. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he asked.

“Tell me what?” Hannibal brought his fingertips to his mouth where he’d been kissed.

“That it’s the artRAVE, baby!” Abigail cried.

Hannibal cringed at her volume, ready for the embarrassment of hundreds of judgmental looks shot their way from hundreds of directions, but her exclamation drew widespread cheers and shrieks of joy. He blinked in confusion. He was living in Abigail’s world, now, and she was aglow with all the fire expected of a young Little Monster.

Abigail saw Hannibal’s expression and giggled. “You’re so out of your element,” she said.

“And you’re so in your element,” he replied. “I’ve never seen you this… giddy.”

“Why shouldn’t she be giddy? Hell, I’m getting kind of giddy myself,” Will said.

“The atmosphere _is_ infectious, isn’t it?” Hannibal said. “I’ve never seen so many excited people in one place, and all so close together. I barely have elbow room.”

“It’ll get more packed,” Abigail said.

“I don’t much like close quarters,” Hannibal replied.

“It’ll be fine, Hann,” Will chimed in. “We’re here for Abigail, remember?”

“I remember,” Hannibal groaned. “Believe me, I remember.”

Abigail bit her lip and looked back and forth between her pair of surrogate fathers, unsure of whether she should do what she wanted to do next. She decided she did, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a little plastic baggie. She opened it and shook the contents out into her hand: five small white pills.

“Abigail,” Will said measuredly, “tell me those aren’t what I think they are.”

“They’re what you think you are,” she said with a devilish grin.

“Where the hell did you get those?” Will asked.

“Is that… ecstasy?” Hannibal wondered.

“Yep,” Abigail replied. “And I have my connections, Will. You know I don’t run in the cleanest circles.”

Will shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, you don’t expect us to take those, do you?”

“Of course she does,” Hannibal said, and when Will and Abigail looked over to him they found him to be smiling.

“You can’t think this is a good idea,” Will said to him. “Drugs? In a place like this?”

“You don’t know this,” Hannibal began, “but Abigail and I have done _drugs_ before. I indulged her with some psilocybin tea.”

“Psilo-what?”

“Mushrooms,” Abigail said. “It was mushroom tea, and it was awesome.”

“And you’ve done drugs since then?” Will asked.

She nodded. “Only in safe places. Pablo is straight-edge, so he’s there for me if anything happens.

“Straight-edge?” Hannibal asked.

“It means he doesn’t drink or do drugs,” Abigail explained. “And besides, it’s Hannibal’s fault that I got wrapped up in that, not mine. He gave me a taste for it.”

Hannibal nodded once. His vision was still a little fuzzy. “You’re presented with a choice, now. Will you join us in taking the pills?”

“You’re going to?” Will asked in disbelief.

“Of course,” Hannibal said with a sly smile. “Abigail, the pill, if you would?”

She handed him one of the tabs, still grinning. Hannibal popped his in his mouth and dry swallowed it. She followed his lead, leaving Will aghast.

“I can’t! I mean, I shouldn’t… I mean…” Will searched for words, but couldn’t find any. “Fuck it. Give me the pill.”

“That’s what I thought,” Abigail said. She gave him a thumbs-up as he downed the pill.

“How long will it take?” Will asked. He hung his head low.

“You look like a guilty puppy,” Abigail said. “I’m not really sure, anyway. I’ve never dropped E before.”

“Why now?”

“Clearly because it’s the artRAVE,” Hannibal said.

That brought Will out of his shame and made him laugh. “You’re finally getting it.”

“We probably should’ve listened to ARTPOP on the way up,” Abigail said. “I didn’t really think about it.”

“What _did_ we listen to?” Hannibal asked. “I can’t say it was unpleasant, though certainly not to my usual tastes.”

“Oh, let’s see… Born This Way, The Fame, mostly The Fame Monster, and some acoustic stuff.”

“I’m sure the acoustic stuff was for his benefit,” Will said.

Abigail shrugged. “I love it too. I did want him to know that she can actually sing, though.”

“And she can,” Hannibal said. “To my shock and surprise, I’m actually looking forward to her performance.”

They stayed silent for a bit and listened to the piped-in pop songs on the loudspeakers.

“ _Sei nuovo_?” came a voice from behind them. They turned to see the man in fishnets and heels from earlier. Hannibal literally jumped in surprise.

“ _Non parlo italiano_ ,” Abigail told him. She had to raise her voice significantly to be heard over the music.

“Ah! You are new?” he asked. He pointed at Hannibal. “You are new to concert? Gaga concert?”

Hannibal chuckled. The alcohol was wearing off, but it still had him looser than usual. “ _Sì, io sono nuovo_ ,” he replied.

“You speak Italian?”

“ _Sì_ , but they do not.”

“Very good. Maybe you can teach.” The light glistened off his pink eye shadow. “I am Marco,” he said, and extended his hand.

Hannibal shook it. “Roman,” he introduced himself. “This is my partner, Leonardo, and our daughter Cassandra.”

“Leo and Cassie. Don’t be so formal,” Will said.

“You come from America?” Marco asked.

“Originally,” Hannibal said. “We moved last year.”

“Italy is the most beautiful country in the world,” Marco said. “You made a good choice.”

“It’s very beautiful,” Abigail said. “But it’s more beautiful in here.”

Marco laughed. He had a deep, throaty laugh that rose above the din of the crowd. “So this is your first Gaga? You must be very excited.”

“We are,” Will said. “I can’t wait.”

“As if you could ever be as excited as I am,” Abigail said.

“It’s my daughter’s birthday,” Hannibal explained. “This is her present. I’m not generally a fan, but I’m having a wonderful time.”

“Just wait until she arrives. Have you brought the earplugs?” Marco asked.

“Earplugs?”

Marco laughed his booming laugh again. “You will lose your hearing.” He took a moment to compose himself. “Happy birthday to you, Cassie. This is the best present, _sì_?”

“ _Sì_ ,” she replied. “Who did you come with?”

“My girlfriend was going to come, but she became sick. So I am here alone.”

Hannibal’s eyes just about bugged out of his head. “You’re heterosexual? And you’re wearing _that_?”

“I do not know this word, heterosexual?”

“He means you like girls,” Abigail said. “He’s surprised you don’t like men.”

Marco pursed his lips. “Can I not wear a costume for a Gaga concert? They are a special time. And…” He leaned in close to Abigail’s ear. “I also like the men.”

She went into a fit of giggles. The drug seemed to be hitting her faster than Hannibal and Will. “I like you, Marco. I’m gonna give you a present.” She reached into her pocket, and before Will could stop her she’d produced one of the little white tablets.

“We don’t—she doesn’t—we—“ Will stammered.

“Ecstasy?” Marco asked. “Very good! Thank you, Cassie.” He took the pill and popped it into his mouth. “This will make me much less lonely.”

“You’re never alone in a crowd of little monsters,” Abigail said, and winked at him.

“Very good, very true. Did you all take?” he asked.

Will nodded grimly. “It’s my first time. I’m nervous.” He looked around. The pink lighting seemed more… vibrant now. More electric. More _alive_. “I think it’s starting.”

“You will enjoy it,” Marco assured him. “Why do you not wear the t-shirt, Roman?” he asked.

Hannibal looked down at his plain button-up, then over to Will and Abigail’s matching Gaga shirts. “We, ah… we only had two,” he said.

“That is sad,” Marco said. “It is good to dress for Gaga, even if it is only the t-shirt.”

Abigail giggled again. “See, _Leo_ ,” she dragged out his name, as if making a joke about it, “I told you it was a good idea.”

The piped-in music stopped, and the crowd erupted into screams. Hannibal winced and covered his ears. Abigail elbowed him hard and gestured for him to put his hands down. He bit down on his cheeks and followed her lead. The first beats of the song ARTPOP began to play, and the crowd roared even louder than Hannibal thought could be possible. Gaga rose up from under the stage a stone’s throw away from them. Abigail jumped up and down, screaming as hard as she could, hands clasped to her chest.


	11. Capitolo Undici

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaga's performance begins, and Hannibal is along for the ride.

Gaga finally got around to sitting down at her piano, and Hannibal’s eardrums were grateful for it. He was having a hell of a time, though, in no small part due to the fact that he was rolling so hard he worried his brain would leave his body. The crowd got perfectly quiet to listen to their queen sing. Hannibal breathed a sigh of relief, but Abigail was disturbed. They couldn’t quite see the piano from their vantage point. Will nudged her to turn around, and they watched Gaga on the big screen as she talked to the crowd and keyed out the first bits of Dope.

“She really does have an amazing voice,” Hannibal said to Abigail.

“Shh!” she hissed. She wanted to hear every note, every vibration. Marco was equally rapt, and to Hannibal’s surprise, so was Will. Hannibal noted with amusement how blown out Will’s pupils were. He could relate. The drug made the music almost tangible, physical even, and even just for an hour he’d forgotten all about the trouble of being Roman Fell. He was Hannibal Lecter again, _sans_ person suit, but here he was having a blast at a Lady Gaga concert of all things. He knew why, and the ecstasy was only a piece of it. The real part was having a family, a husband and daughter, to share the experience with. Abigail and Will were happy, so he was happy, too.

Dope segued to Yoü and I, which Hannibal surprised himself by loving. The real treat, though, was her acoustic performance of Born This Way, when she pulled a fan up on stage to sit next to her on the piano and had a heartfelt moment with the crowd. Hannibal knew it was impossible for all the Italians there to understand her English, but every single fan was completely connected to her as she spoke, as if by magic. She really was their Mother Monster, he thought.

After The Edge of Glory, she got back up to work the catwalks and stage to the sounds of Judas, which was apparently one of Abigail’s favorites, because she went absolutely _wild_ for it. Judas’s boom was constant, almost monolithic in its sound. It would’ve been a little loud for Hannibal normally, but as the last of the alcohol’s buzz wore off and the drug took over completely, he couldn’t help but dance and bounce a little. He’d never danced to this kind of music in his life. He was sure Abigail would never let him hear the end of it.

Judas faded to Aura, which had one of the most bizarre openings he’d ever heard in a song, but he was fully along for the ride now, so he didn’t even think a complaint.

He looked over to Abigail and saw her screaming along: “ _Do you wanna touch me, cosmic lover? Do you wanna peek underneath the cover?_ ”

The sight made him smile, and the drug and the music made him feel a wave of parental love for her stronger than anything he’d felt before. He pulled her to his side to give her a hug. She shot him an irritated look, shook him off, and kept dancing. Will noticed Hannibal’s failure and chuckled at him. Hannibal’s affection shifted to Will, then, but it was a decidedly different kind of affection. He grabbed the back of Will’s head and kissed him hard.

Will initially thought to push him away, that they shouldn’t kiss so heavily during the actual concert, much less in front of Abigail. But then desire took him over and he parted Hannibal’s lips to engage his tongue while Gaga appropriately sang through Sexxx Dreams. Will felt someone slap him on the back, broke the kiss, and turned to see Marco grinning at him. He was rolling just as hard as they were, and if his girlfriend had been there they probably would’ve been doing the same thing.

Will turned back to Hannibal and mussed his hair a little. Hannibal scowled back. Abigail hadn’t noticed any of it. She was fully immersed in the power that was Lady Gaga.

Gaga finished her set with Swine, which had exploded every nerve in Hannibal’s body, and the screams for an encore started up almost immediately. He wasn’t sure if she would do one, never having been to a pop or rock show before, but he decided to throw caution to the wind and yell right along with them. Abigail noticed and gave him a huge hug.

Gaga went back to her piano when she finally returned, and Abigail stomped her feet in a little tantrum. Their line of sight was broken as before, so they had to watch on the screen again.

Hannibal found the song to be stunningly beautiful. He recognized a lot of himself in the lyrics, or at least a lot of his past self: _I don’t wanna be alone forever, but I can be tonight_. He’d always been looking for someone like Will, or maybe he’d been looking for Will specifically, but he hadn’t been fully aware of it. He’d known something was missing, though, and as he moved around Europe and America like a gypsy he also knew he could survive alone, always on the move, always on the run.

The white confetti and lights that rained down as she walked back on the catwalk to finish out the song on stage seemed to explode in a million tiny starbursts. He held up his arms to touch the confetti. The sensation of paper on his fingertips had him in pure awe. He was much more high than the others, and if Abigail hadn’t been so focused on Gaga she probably would’ve teased him about it. But not too much. She was still a little cautious of drawing his ire, though he always assured her he could never be angry with her. She couldn’t be convinced, given his extracurricular activities, and that made him feel a little hollow.

And then Gaga was gone, the lights came up, and the piped-in music returned.


	12. Capitolo Dodici

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the artRAVE winds down, Hannibal and Will and Abigail go separate ways.

Hannibal, still smiling in spite of himself, turned around to see Abigail hopping into Marco’s arms. Marco grinned wider than should be physically possible, and Abigail took a step back.

“High five?” Marco asked Will.

Will was only too happy to oblige. “That was amazing,” he said.

“I told you you’d love her,” Abigail said. “Dad did too. Didn’t you?”

Hannibal chuckled. “I did, actually. I was quite taken by her.”

“I saw you dancing,” Will said with a sly grin. “I’ve never seen you dance like that before.”

“It is the power of Mother Monster,” Marco said. Bodies rushed past them making for the exit, but they stood in place basking in the afterglow. “What are you three doing for tonight?”

“Tonight? Sleeping, I expect,” Hannibal said.

Marco tapped Hannibal’s side with his fist. “Don’t be so boring. There are always parties after Gaga.”

“Parties?” Abigail perked up. “What kind of parties?”

“Big parties. You know, last time she was in Italy she came to the club where I was dancing. I am going there tonight.”

Abigail and Will turned their gazes to each other simultaneously. “What if she goes there again?” Will asked.

“Yeah, what if?” Abigail replied. “It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

Hannibal cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but doesn’t my opinion matter?”

Marco tapped his side again. “Roman, Roman, Roman! Come along. You had fun here tonight, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, and you didn’t think you would,” Abigail said. “Maybe you’ll have fun at a club too.”

“I’ve never been to _that_ kind of club,” Hannibal said. “I don’t intend to start tonight.”

Will sighed. “I’m taking Cassie to do whatever she wants for her birthday, Roman. If you don’t want to come you can go back to the hotel.”

“Then I will,” Hannibal said. “I wouldn’t want to dampen the excitement, after all.”

“Suit yourself,” Abigail said. “We’ll catch up with you later, then.”

“Enjoy yourselves,” Hannibal said with a nod. “But Cassandra…” He touched the side of her face. She gazed up at him warmly. “Don’t do anything dangerous.”

“I never do,” she sing-songed.

“Liar,” Will said, and he, Abigail, and Marco erupted into laughter. Hannibal didn’t find it so funny, but he didn’t press the subject. “We’ll see you later, Roman.” Will kissed Hannibal hard. Hannibal didn’t resist this time. He gave in to Will’s mouth, and his tongue in turn, for the better part of thirty seconds.

Abigail and Marco couldn’t stop snickering. “What?” Hannibal asked when they broke the kiss, a silly look on his face. “I thought you said, ‘It’s the artRAVE, baby!’”

“You just seem so different,” Marco said by way of explanation. “You were so proper before Gaga. Now you are more relaxed.”

“He had a good time,” Will said. “And now it’s time for us to have a good time. Lead the way, Marco.”

“Be safe,” Hannibal reiterated as they began to part.

“We will be.”

Hannibal watched them disappear into the crowd. He realized he should probably check his phone, pulled it out, and shook his head at what he saw. A text from Bedelia: _I can’t believe I’m saying this, but that was actually incredible. You should try to see her sometime, if you can. I should get back to my niece. Bedelia Du Maurier_.

So she’d enjoyed it too. Gaga really did have a power over people, he thought. He hammered out a text back to her: _She has such an influence. If I had half of that I would be much more efficient._

His phone buzzed. _Don’t joke. Bedelia Du Maurier._

_I never joke_ , he texted, then pocketed his phone again. The floor was mostly empty now, and the piped-in pop music was getting progressively worse, so he decided it was time to get back to the hotel. He exited the gate they’d come in through, turned to his right, and stopped in his tracks. There was Bedelia in line at a merchandise stand, with a young woman in tow.

Hannibal began to sweat. Should he go up to her? Should he avoid her? A million thoughts raced through his head, but he settled on one: he couldn’t let anyone know where they’d landed. He turned on his heel and booked it in the opposite direction. He hoped she hadn’t noticed him, and after a few minutes with no texts, he assumed she hadn’t. He breathed a sigh of relief. In all his time in Italy, he’d never come so close to being identified.

It was strange, though. Seeing her had awakened a pang of something in his chest. Longing, perhaps? But longing for what? His old life in Baltimore? He did miss her, in his way, at least as much as he was capable of missing anyone who wasn’t Will or Abigail. Otherwise he wouldn’t keep the cell he used exclusively for contacting her. She was the only one who had his number, though she’d jokingly suggested he give it to Frederick Chilton once. It was untraceable, she’d said, so what could it hurt? He had to admit it was an entertaining prospect, but he couldn’t take the risk, so he left the phone for Bedelia and no one else.

She’d looked well, and he was glad for that. He often worried how she was doing on her own, but apparently she’d become more involved with her family again, and that was a good thing as far as he was concerned. He didn’t like the thought of her being perfectly alone in her spacious home. He knew she’d started seeing patients again, but that was hardly the same thing as healthy social contact. He’d been her only friend.

Somehow he managed to hail a taxi in the insane rush of Little Monsters trying to get back home, or back to their hotels. He slid into the back seat. It smelled of cigarettes and piss. It was jarring compared to the limo they’d taken from Florence, but he could suffer an indignity or two every now and then. He gave the cabbie his destination, and they drove off away from the arena. He watched it disappear through the window. He really had had a good time, against all odds. He only hoped Abigail was having a good time now, too.


	13. Capitolo Tredici

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will, Abigail, and Marco hit the club, and the alcohol flows like a fountain. And then... a very special guest arrives.

“This is _insane_!” Abigail shouted above the music. The club was packed, and the music was absolutely pounding. Bodies writhed on the dance floor. The bar swarmed with club-goers thirsty for alcohol.

“I will get us some drinks!” Marco yelled. Will and Abigail both nodded their heads off.

“Vodka!” Abigail suggested.

Marco gave her a thumbs-up. He shoved his way through the club to the front of the bar. He was already a tall man, so his stilettos made him stand at least a head above anyone else.

Abigail and Will headed for the only empty table in the club, which was far enough from the floor that they could actually hear each other speak. Abigail made sure to jump and wave to Marco so he knew where they were before they sat down.

“This place is incredible,” Will said.

“I bet you haven’t been somewhere like this in a while, huh?” Abigail asked.

“Not since college,” Will replied. “And even then only once or twice. I never was big on the party scene.”

“I’ll have to drag you out more often then. You’re having a blast.”

“Am I?” Will asked, but he knew from the ache at the corners of his mouth that he’d been grinning all night. He touched his face. “I can’t stop smiling,” he said, and laughed.

“Neither can I! Look, here comes Marco.”

Marco arrived with a tray full of alcohol. Will’s eyes went wide as he surveyed the drinks and shots arrayed on the platter. “Is all this for us?”

“Yes, all of it,” Marco said. “We must drink it all before we dance. It is good that you found a table.”

“Otherwise you’d have to hold all of it, huh?” Abigail said. She reached for a shot of something pink, and knocked it back. She winced and shook her head back and forth quickly, tapped her chest, and said, “That _burns_!”

“It is good for you,” Marco said.

“What the hell was it?” Will demanded, taken aback. Abigail could hold her liquor like nobody’s business, so if it had been hard for _her_ to take…

“It is a secret,” Marco replied. “Here,” he said, and handed Will one of the pink shots. He picked one up himself. “To Gaga, and to tonight.”

Will grimaced in anticipation, clinked glasses with Marco, and took the shot. The alcohol slid down his throat like fire. “There’s everclear in this,” he said, coughing.

“Everclear, or something,” Marco said. “We could set it on fire if we wanted. Good, yes?”

Will had to admit, the aftertaste wasn’t half bad. “Yeah,” he said. “Surprisingly.”

“I love it,” Abigail said. She reached for another shot, blue this time. She tossed it, slammed the glass on the table, and smacked her lips. “That one’s easy,” she said. “It’s gotta be UV Blue and soda.”

“I had to put one simple,” Marco said. He and Will took the other two blue shots and drained them.

“What’re the mixed drinks?” Will asked.

“ _Maremoti_ ,” Marco replied. “The club specialty. Drink.”

Will and Abigail both took one of the tall glasses and sipped. Will came back sputtering, but Abigail took another deep drink. “This is delicious.”

“Deliciously strong,” Will said.

“Oh, don’t be a lightweight,” Abigail said. “Drink up.”

“Yes! Drink up,” Marco agreed.

Will had come down from the E now, so he figured he might as well tear into the alcohol to replace it. He chugged as best he could, setting his throat on fire and burning his belly.

“That’s the spirit,” Abigail said. She pounded him on the back, then set to chugging her own drink.

The three of them shut up until they’d finished their drinks. There were still three shots left on the tray. “These are stronger,” Marco said. “The strongest I know about.”

“Stronger than the blue ones? Jesus,” Will muttered. Neither of the other two could hear him. “Alright, bring it on,” he said, louder now.

The trio took a glass each. Abigail eyed the contents. “This isn’t vodka, is it?”

“Rum,” Marco said. “You have a good eyesight for alcohol, Cassie.”

“Does it have 151?” she asked.

“How did you know?”

“You said it was strong.”

Marco laughed. “I like you, Cassie. And you, Leo. I am glad I met you. It is always good to meet new Monsters.”

“We’re a family,” Abigail said. “Now let’s drink these motherfuckers.”

Will chuckled. Abigail rarely cursed, but when she did, she did it with gusto. Hannibal hated it, but Will found it endearing as hell. “To Mother Monster,” Will said.

Abigail cocked her head at him. “Nice one,” she said, apparently surprised that he’d used the term. “To Mother Monster!”

“Long live Gaga!” Marco cheered, and they all took their shots.

Just as they’d finished coughing and hacking, the crowd absolutely _exploded_. Will whipped his head around, looking for the source of their excitement. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he found it.

“Omigodomigodomigod!” Abigail tore off across the club, basically beating back the partygoers around her to get to the other side of the room.

Her destination? A woman in a black leather harness and heels, flanked by an entourage of friends and security guards. None other than Lady Gaga herself had made her entrance.

Her security did their best to keep the fans from swarming her, but they couldn’t stop the wave, and Gaga didn’t seem to care. She hugged and kissed all around on her way to a private table. She collapsed into one of the chairs, probably exhausted from her performance. She put her heels up on the table. They were designer, definitely, but Will couldn’t place them or the red soles they bore.

Abigail, however, was well aware. “Omigod Louboutins!” she told him excitedly after he’d managed to reach her side of the room.

“I can’t believe she’s here,” Will said, leaning close to Abigail’s ear so she could hear him.

“She comes to bars and clubs after concerts sometimes,” she replied. “ _Gaga! Over here! I love you!_ ” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Will patted her shoulder. He loved seeing her so happy. He looked around for Marco, who was still a fair way away from them. He was clearly having trouble breaking through the mob of fans, probably due to his delicate heels situation.

Gaga wore heavy sunglasses, which said to Will that she was either drunk or high, or maybe both. You never knew with pop stars. Or, in her case, _rock star_ was probably a better label.

Abigail burst through the crowd until she was maybe ten feet from Gaga herself. She hopped up and down, craning her neck to see. Gaga looked over and raised her glasses. She whispered something to one of her security guys, and he pointed in Abigail’s direction. He shouted something, but it was hard for Will to hear. Abigail stopped jumping, though, and parted the crowd like a battering ram. She grabbed Will’s hand and tugged him along behind her.

Gaga lowered her glasses again and smiled. “What’s your name?” she asked Abigail. Will’s jaw dropped. Gaga gestured for them to come up to the table. Abigail bounced into one of the empty seats without a second thought, but Will was dumbfounded and moved to his seat like a zombie. From the angle of his seat he caught a glimpse of Marco, who looked even more flabbergasted than Will felt.

“Cassie,” Abigail said. Will was thankful she wasn’t so caught up she’d forget her assumed name. “I’m Cassie.”

“Nice to meet you, Cassie. You’re a bouncy little thing.”

“Th…thank you. Omigod, I can’t believe this is happening!”

Will was surprised to see tears streaming down her face. Abigail never cried, at least in his experience, but this _was_ an overwhelming experience for both of them.

“Who’s this? Your brother?” Gaga asked.

Will found himself blushing.

“He’s my stepdad,” Abigail said.

“Does your stepdad have a name?”

“L-L-L-Leo,” Will said, surprising himself by stammering. He was in the presence of greatness, and he was well aware of that even if he wasn’t a mega fan like Abigail.

“Well L-L-L-Leo, you have a lovely stepdaughter. Can I get you guys something to drink? _Can_ you even drink?” she asked Abigail. “Not that it matters.”

“I’m 22. It’s my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday!” Gaga enthused. She opened her arms and Abigail fell into them. She embraced her tightly. “You’ll need more than just a drink then, Cassie. I remember my 22nd birthday. It was wild. Has yours been wild?”

“Not wild enough,” Abigail said. “Yet.”

Gaga laughed uproariously, and Will joined in. It was hard _not_ to join in. She was just so… infectious.

“So you’re American? What are you doing in Italy?” Gaga asked.

Will realized they could be completely blowing their cover right now. He hoped she would come up with something other than _hiding out with my murderer dads_ , and thankfully, she did.

“We’re on vacation for my birthday. I wanted to go to see you, and they wanted to see Italy.”

“Sounds fucking perfect,” Gaga said. She lit a cigarette. “Want one?” she asked.

“I don’t smoke,” Will said.

“I wasn’t asking you,” she said playfully, “but this isn’t tobacco.”

Abigail grinned even wider than she already had been, if that was possible. “I’d love a ‘ _cigarette_.’”

“That’s my girl,” Gaga said, and handed her something hand-rolled, filter and all. Abigail put it between her lips. She expected someone to produce a lighter, but Gaga just leaned forward and pressed the tip of what Will now realized to be a joint against Abigail’s. They were almost close enough to be kissing. Abigail breathed deeply, and the tip of her joint lit up. Gaga leaned back. “There ya go,” she said. “So, Leo, are you a fan too, or are you just here for Cassie?”

“I’m a fan,” Will said. “I mean, I _was_ a fan, but now I’m a Little Monster.”

Abigail was on cloud nine, and that statement made her even happier.

“What a compliment! Do you want an autograph, Leo? A picture maybe? Where’s your husband? She _did_ say dads, right?”

“He’s a stick in the mud,” Abigail said. “He went back to the hotel.”

“He missed out,” Gaga said.

“I’d kill for an autograph,” Will said. He had to stifle a laugh at his choice of words.

Gaga gestured to a woman in her posse, and she produced a sharpie for her. “Take off your shirt,” Gaga ordered.

Will squinted in confusion.

Abigail elbowed him. “Just do it,” she hissed.

Will decided to throw caution to the wind and stripped out of his Little Monster t-shirt. The crowd roared in appreciation: apparently they approved of his shirtless body. Hannibal would be jealous.

“Turn around,” Gaga said. It wasn’t a request.

Will complied, and she signed her name long and loopy across his back.

“There we go,” she said. “You can get dressed again… but I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

He had a feeling she winked at him behind her sunglasses. He swallowed hard, shrugged, and left his shirt sitting in his lap.

“A man after my own heart,” Gaga said. “Too bad you’re taken.”

“Gaga! You can’t just—“ Abigail cried.

“Oh, she _can_ just,” Will said, laughing. “Believe me she can.”

“That’s what I thought,” Gaga said, puffing on her joint.

Abigail had almost forgotten hers. She took a drag and let it out slowly. The smoke curled up to the ceiling. “This is good shit,” she said, and it was. She was getting buzzed faster than she had on any other weed.

“Of course it is,” Will said. “It’s a rock star’s pot.”

Gaga laughed. “A rock star? I like you. You’re good guys. Stick around with me tonight, I’m gonna sing and dance my ass off a little, but I’ll show you something special later.”

“Something special?” Abigail asked.

“Just something I’ve been working on,” Gaga said. She took another hit. “You’re gonna have a good story to tell your friends after tonight.”

“No shit,” Abigail said.

Someone with a big camera, a journalist maybe, appeared from the crowd.

“Let’s get a picture,” Gaga said.

“Sure,” Will said without thinking.

The three of them leaned in together. “ _Uno, due, tre!_ ” the photographer counted. The flash snapped, and the alcohol kept Will from realizing his mistake.


	14. Capitolo Quattordici

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal runs into an old friend.

Hannibal mashed the button for the eleventh floor and leaned his head back against the elevator wall. It was mirrored on both sides, and the infinity effect made a million shrinking Hannibals stare back at him. Before the doors could slide shut completely, someone shrieked, “Wait!” and stuck her arm in the crack. Hannibal winced at the noise and mashed the _close doors_ button, but he was too late, and a moment later a teenage girl came tumbling through the door. She reeked of alcohol.

“Sorry,” she slurred, giving him a sheepish smile. “I’m, like, a total klutz sometimes.”

Hannibal curled his lip in disgust. “You’re drunk,” he said.

“Extremely,” she replied. “What gave it away?”

“A better question is: what didn’t?”

He went to hit the _close doors_ button again, but, once again, the girl shrieked, “Wait!” He gritted his teeth and stopped short of pressing the button.

“Hang on. I can see my aunt. She’s coming… just a sec, okay?” She struggled her way around him to hold down the _open doors_ button. “Hey, Auntie!” she yelled through the doorway. The girl was absolutely smashed.

‘Auntie’ arrived, and every muscle in Hannibal’s body contracted when he saw her face. The tension in the cramped elevator was palpable as she entered the cab. She and Hannibal stared each other down as soon as she found a spot to stand. “Hello,” ‘Auntie’ said. Her voice was terse and detached.

“ _Buona sera_ ,” Hannibal replied shortly. The elevator began to move, and he began to sweat. He noted with some horror that neither the girl nor her aunt had indicated another floor. “Which floor?” he asked, hoping with every fiber of his being that they would say something other than…

“No need. We’re on the eleventh,” the woman said. Hannibal almost cursed.

The girl, on the other hand, actually did curse. “God, I’m so fucking tired.” She slumped against the opposite wall. Her face was covered with glitter. It formed little tracks from her sweat.

“Language!”

“Oh, like you give a shit,” the girl replied. “You only care ‘cause he’s here,” she said.

“Be polite and swallow your words,” the woman said, but she seemed uninterested in scolding the girl. She was too focused on Hannibal.

His jaw tightened further still. He white-knuckled the railing behind him.

The girl audibly harrumphed. “Sorry, I guess. But I don’t see the big deal. It’s not like he hasn’t heard it before. He’s a big boy.”

“Be quiet, Lana. You’re only making this worse.”

Hannibal sighed long and hard. “Things couldn’t be any worse,” he said. He stared daggers at the aunt. Their eyes remained locked until the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Lana took a hop over the threshold and into the hallway, stumbling and wobbling on her feet when she landed. Hannibal gestured for the aunt to follow her. “Ladies first,” he said.

She didn’t take him up on his offer. She hit the _close doors_ button, then the button for the top floor. Hannibal’s lips twitched in a half-second frown as the doors shut and the elevator started its ascent. Between floors, the woman hammered the emergency stop button. A loud buzz filled the cab, followed by utter silence.

“As I live and breathe,” she said. “Hannibal Lecter. The Chesapeake Ripper himself. Or is it _Il Mostro_ again?”

“Funny running into you here,” Hannibal said.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in Milan?”

“I do apologize for that. I simply didn’t want to be found.”

The aunt slapped him hard across the face. “You deceitful bastard,” she spat.

Hannibal raised his hand to his cheek. “It’s nice to see you too, Dr. Du Maurier.”

“And to think,” Bedelia said, “I’ve been so understanding about your absence. Downright accepting, even. Why are you here?”

“I had some business to attend to,” he said.

“I don’t suppose you were here to see Lady Gaga as well?” Her query was meant to cut, to make him look like a fool for his non-response to her text, but it had the opposite effect. Hannibal fought back laughter.

“Do I look like the kind of man who would go to a pop show?” he asked. For once he was having a hard time keeping his composure.

“No, but do I look like the sort of woman who would?” She was clad in a blue pencil dress, pearls, and smart kitten heels. Not exactly something anyone would wear to a Gaga show, Hannibal thought. Then again, he’d worn a pressed button-down and loafers, so he hadn’t fit in very well, either.

“Release the elevator, would you? I’d like to get back to my room,” he said.

“That’s all you have to say after two years’ separation? ‘I had some business to attend to?’ ‘I’d like to get back to my room?’ You knew I was in Milan, _Roman_.” She spoke his assumed name with disdain.

“What do you want from me, then? What do you expect?”

“I expect you to be friendly, or thankful at the very least,” she said.

“I am thankful. You’ve kept my secret for quite a while.”

“Against my better interest. Do you have any idea how many times Jack Crawford came calling to question me? It’s been a nightmare.” She shook her head. “But we shouldn’t argue. Not now. Why don’t you come to my room? You can meet my niece.”

“Lana? She was… sloppy,” he said.

“It’s her first time drinking,” Bedelia said. “I’m sure you remember how it was the first time you were drunk.”

Hannibal had to fight laughter again. He wasn’t high anymore, but he still felt giddy from the concert. “I do,” he said, neglecting to mention that it had been mere hours before. “But I kept my composure, unlike your Lana.” Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he had. The ride to Milan and the few hours after were a blur in his memory.

“Don’t be a spoil-sport,” Bedelia said. “Let the girl have her fun. This was also her first concert.”

“Perhaps I should be more understanding, then, but you really ought to let us move. We can’t have security getting curious.”

“Point taken. Come round in fifteen minutes or so, if you would. We’re in 1105.”

“No promises,” he replied.

“I didn’t expect any,” she said, and restarted the elevator.


	15. Capitolo Quindici

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Abigail leave the club in Gaga's company. Meanwhile, Hannibal pays a visit to Bedelia's hotel room.

Abigail had to remind Will to put his shirt back on as they exited the club. He’d gotten swept up in all the attention his torso drew inside, but it would be poor form to walk out of a bar with a pop star while shirtless. True enough, the paparazzi outside wasted no time snapping photos of them. Will did a decent job of hiding in the middle of Gaga’s entourage to avoid the cameras, but Abigail was right out in the open at the fore of the bunch.

“Is it always like this?” she asked Gaga, keeping time with her side-by-side.

“Almost always,” Gaga replied. She patted Abigail on the back. “Smile, Cassie. You don’t want to look all pouty in the papers, do you?”

“The papers?” Abigail’s heart beat fast. She hadn’t thought this through far enough to realize how very public she’d made their stay in Milan.

“Oh, just the Italian tabloids. Don’t worry about it, man.”

Abigail chuckled nervously. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure Will was still in the pack, and he gave her a little wave. She put on a big smile, and they reached the curb and Gaga’s waiting limo. One of her security guys held the door open. Gaga went in first, then gestured for Abigail and Will to follow her. Her bodyguard and two women Abigail didn’t recognize piled in after them. They didn’t introduce themselves, but they didn’t butt into the conversation, either.

The limo was even more posh than the one they’d taken to Milan. A bottle of champagne sat wedged in a bucket of ice on a little table in the middle of the car. Gaga pulled it out and offered it to Abigail. “Wanna pop the bottle?” she asked.

Abigail grinned, but her eyes betrayed her confusion. “I’ve never opened champagne before,” she said.

Gaga waved her off. “Oh, it’s easy. Here. Just twist that off… There you go… Now pop it.”

The cork ricocheted around the limo. Will ducked as it flew straight at his head. It was a narrow miss. “Watch where you’re pointing that, Cassie!”

“Sorry,” Abigail said, but she didn’t look sorry. She looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. Or the bunting. One of the other women produced some champagne flutes and passed them to Gaga, who handed one each to Will and Abigail. Abigail took the hint and filled all of their glasses nearly to the top.

Gaga sipped off the top of her glass. “Careful,” she said, “they’ll spill when we start moving.”

“Whoops,” Abigail said. She tipped her flute back and took two big swallows. “Jesus, this is delicious. What is it?”

“It’s fucking expensive, is what it is,” Gaga said with a smug smile. “But there’s plenty where that came from.”

“Where are we going?” Will asked, nursing his champagne.

“My bus,” she explained. “Well, it’s more like a mobile studio. You’ll see.”

The limo eased away from the curb and onto the street. Traffic was bad, and fans flooded the street outside the club besides, so they moved at a snail’s pace. “So why us?” Will asked, giving voice to the question Abigail had been wondering ever since they’d been plucked from the crowd.

Gaga just shrugged in response, largely ignoring the question. “It’s been a while since I’ve had monsters on the bus, but I love it. Are you guys musical at all?”

“I can play the piano,” Will said. Abigail shot him a look that said: _really?_ He nodded at her. “It’s been a couple years, though.”

“Well, maybe you can get some practice in,” Gaga said. “Can you sing, Cassie?”

“Not to save my life,” Abigail said. “But I’m a good listener.”

Gaga threw her head back in laughter. It seemed like she found everything hilarious. Will wished he could enjoy life even half as much as she did. “That’s alright. I just like to jam with fans, you know? You gonna slam the keys for us, Leo?”

Will blanched. Play for a star musician? The idea terrified him.

“Aw, don’t look so scared,” Gaga said. “I don’t bite. It’s just a little tinkling. I’ll sing for you.” She batted her eyes at him, and he couldn’t deny her after that.

“Just a little,” he said, and took a healthy sip of champagne. He was wasted off his ass, just like he was sure Abigail was. Marco’s shots and _maremoti_ and all the liquor Gaga had fed them had his world spinning. He took another swallow; the carbonation helped calm his nausea.

Abigail wasn’t nauseated, though, due in large part to the copious amount of pot she’d smoked. Normally she would’ve been embarrassed, but Gaga seemed equally drunk, and after all… it was her birthday.

 

* * *

 

Bedelia’s room was even larger than the one Hannibal had booked. It spread out from a spacious living area to two separate bedrooms. “This must have cost a fortune,” he said, seated in a love seat with his legs crossed.

“No expense spared for my niece,” Bedelia said. “Isn’t that right, Lana?”

Lana had a silly drunken grin on her face. “Right,” she said. The pair of them shared a couch, though Bedelia sat properly upright and Lana had essentially fallen onto the cushions and stayed that way. “So how do you two know each other, again?”

“We’re old friends,” Hannibal said. “Although we used to be patient and psychiatrist. Isn’t that right, Bedelia?”

She glowered at him. “Used to be, yes. Before you absconded to Italy with that ward of yours.”

“Ward?” Lana asked. Hannibal could tell she wasn’t particularly bright, even considering the alcohol.

“An adopted daughter,” Hannibal explained.

The corner of Bedelia’s mouth twitched up in a half-smile. “Yes. Adopted,” she said, dragging out the word ‘adopted.’

Lana perked up a little at the mention of a daughter. “Is she my age? Where is she? Is she here?”

“She’s twenty-two,” Hannibal replied. “And she’s… somewhere. She and my partner went dancing.”

Bedelia raised her brows. “And you didn’t go with them?”

“No. That’s not my ‘scene,’ as Lana here would probably say.”

“Roman Fell, ceding control to his partner? I must say, I’m surprised.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “When will they be back?”

Hannibal turned his palms up. “Who knows with that girl? I’m not holding my breath for a speedy return.”

“Hey, Auntie Delia?” Lana asked, turning a little to face Bedelia. “Can we get some wine, or champagne or something? Vodka? Tequila? Something?”

“Already ahead of you,” Bedelia said. She stood and crossed to a cabinet, from which she removed two full bottles of wine. “It’s cheap wine,” she said as she uncorked them. “I assumed we’d be drinking to get drunk, not drinking to savor the taste.”

“Damn right,” Lana said. She gave Hannibal a sly thumbs-up.

He returned it, thoroughly amused by the situation.

Bedelia came back over with the bottles and held one out to Hannibal by its neck. “No glasses,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Two days ago he would have, but now he just shrugged and accepted it. “Thank you,” he said. He looked down at the label and grimaced. It definitely was cheap wine. He tipped back the bottle and took a few gulps straight from the neck. It made him feel a little dirty, but the sensation of wine slipping into his belly was more than welcome.

“What’s your daughter’s name?” Lana asked. She took the other bottle from Bedelia and drank from it.

“Cassandra, though she prefers Cassie. Tell me, you’re not an _Alana,_ are you?” he asked with a bit of humor in his voice. He wasn’t looking at her, but he could sense Bedelia roll her eyes.

“Nope,” Lana said. “Just plain Lana.”

“Just plain Lana, then. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your aunt speaks about you all the time.” He winked at Bedelia, who went back to glowering. She had, of course, never mentioned Lana’s existence to him.

“Really? That’s weird,” Lana said. “We barely, like, interact. At all.”

“Then why are you here with her now?”

“My mom thought we needed to get closer together,” Lana said. “I think she’s full of shit, but it’s Gaga, and Auntie Delia’s letting me drink, soooo…”

“Don’t talk about your mother that way,” Bedelia snapped.

“Right, whatever.” Lana took a deep drag from the bottle. “Listen, can I just go to my room and watch TV?”

“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Hannibal said dryly.

“So do I,” Bedelia added. “But leave the bottle.”

“ _Auntie!_ ” Lana whined. “ _Please!_ ”

“She’s quite right, Lana. You’ve had more than enough for one night,” Hannibal said.

Lana set the bottle on the coffee table with a little _hmmph_ and stalked off for her room. She slammed the door shut behind her.

“Well,” Bedelia said, tousling her hair, “it’s good that we’re alone now… Hannibal.”

“Don’t call me that,” he said. “I’m Roman Fell here. You know that.”

“Oh, please.” She reached for the wine bottle and raised it halfway to her lips, paused in thought, then lowered it again. “Much has happened since you left.”

“Such as?”

“I hesitate to say.”

“Humor me, Bedelia. I’m not here for my health.” He went to take another sip and came up empty. “Well,” he said, turning the bottle upside down for Bedelia’s benefit, “this would explain why the room is spinning.”

“It might sober you to know something. Just a tidbit you might be interested in…”

“Good lord, would you get to the point already?” He rubbed at his eyes. “I’m drunk,” he muttered.

“I can see that,” she replied. “Anyway, your old protégé has been tracking you down.”

He scratched his chin. “Alana Bloom is looking for me?”

“ _Everyone_ is looking for you. She’s struck out on her own, though, and quite fervently I might add. She came to me for help.”

“And _did_ you help her?” he asked. He briefly saw two Bedelias and blinked them back to one.

Bedelia smiled widely, holding the bottle in her lap with both hands. “I have a vested interest in you, as well, so do you really have to ask?” She paused for effect. “Of course I helped her. Wouldn’t you?”

Hannibal gaped at her. “How close is she?”

“We tracked you to Europe,” Bedelia said. “To Barcelona, in fact, but we lost the trail from there. Apparently I’ve picked it up again.”

“Do you intend to tell her I’m in Italy?”

“I haven’t decided. Of course, if I did decide to tell her I expect you’d make a meal of me. But you can’t do that with my niece in the next room.”

“Can’t I?”

“Not as drunk as you are,” she replied, and tittered laughter. “And I’m really quite sober, or at least fairly so. I wouldn’t be an easy target.”

“If you were… if you _are_ conspiring with Alana Bloom, do you truly want me caught?”

“No. I was only curious where you were, and she presented me with an opportunity. Dr. Bloom is many things, but capable of going up against your wits? I highly doubt that.”

“Don’t write her off so easily,” he said. “You’re playing with fire, Dr. Du Maurier.” He rose to his feet and accidentally dropped the bottle to the floor. He swayed a little as he stood. “Don’t come looking for me or mine, or I assure you, you’ll get burned.”

“Come here, Hannibal,” she said, and stood up as well.

He reeled back on his feet. “I know what you’re thinking, Bedelia, and it isn’t going to happen.”

“Are you sure you want to reject me now, given what I’ve just told you?” She took a step toward him. “You can make me go away.” Another step. “You can quiet my loud, loud mouth.” Another, until she was close enough to smell the wine on his breath. “You know what I want.”

“I refuse,” he said, but the wine was clouding his judgment just as it had clouded his vision, and he had an intrusive a flash of days past. Days after their sessions, when they’d share a glass of wine and so many other things. “No,” he rasped, but she was inches away, and his base animal nature was taking over through the alcohol.

“Once more, for old time’s sake. Then I’ll go away, I won’t tell Alana a thing, and you can play house as much as you like. Otherwise…”

Hannibal closed his eyes in an attempt to will it all away but, of course, Bedelia’s face was still there when he opened them. “Just this once?”

“Just this once,” she said, then stretched up on her toes…


	16. Capitolo Sedici

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Abigail jam with Gaga in her tour bus, then Gaga has a proposition for Will.

Abigail did a little spin as she looked around Gaga’s ‘mobile studio.’ “This is amazing.”

“It’s not much,” Gaga said. “But it’s home.”

“Home?” Will asked. “Don’t you have a house, or something?”

“I’ve been thinking about finding one, but nah,” she replied. “I have an apartment, though. Mostly I just stay with Taylor.”

“Taylor?”

“Her boyfriend,” Abigail said. “Taylor Kinney. He’s an actor.”

Gaga smiled again, but it was sheepish this time. “You know your stuff,” she said. “But yeah, I’m a gypsy, remember?”

“Oh,” Will said, “right. I forgot.”

“It’s cool,” she said. “You’re only a monster-in-training.”

Abigail did another spin. The bus held a small piano, a couple sets of keyboards, some guitars, and even a drum kit. A real studio microphone hung from the roof at the far end of the cabin. “Do you actually record in here?”

“All the time,” Gaga replied. “But not the final product. If creativity strikes me I have to bleed it out, no matter where I am. Art floats away. You’ve gotta snatch it before it goes.”

“Deep,” Abigail said. She walked up to the piano and tickled the keys a little. “Hey, why don’t we play something?”

“I like your style,” Gaga said. “Take the keys, Leo. There should be some music around here…” She futzed with a mess of papers scattered across the room’s sole table. “Ah!” She grabbed a few sheets and brought them over to Will.

He shuffled through them. “I’ve never heard this before,” he said.

She shrugged. “It’s not released. At least not by me, but it leaked a while back.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“A little,” she said. “But I’m happy my monsters enjoy it, anyway.”

“What is it?” Abigail asked. She peeked around Will. “Omigod! It’s Brooklyn Nights. I _love_ this song!”

“You listened to it illegally? How dare you,” Gaga deadpanned. Abigail’s eyes went wide and her cheeks burned red in seconds. “Relax, Cassie, it’s just a joke. But most people seem to like it. I think it’s a good tune.”

“I’ve never heard it acoustic,” Abigail said.

“No one has, not any fans at least. But I like you guys, and we’re all drunk as hell, so why the fuck not, right?”

“Yeah, why the fuck not?” Abigail agreed.

“Why the fuck not, indeed,” Will said, making Abigail grin wider still. He set the music in front of the piano and sat on the bench. He chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Gaga asked.

“I have an original composition for you,” Will said, and proceeded to play Chopsticks.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Gaga teased.

“Anyway… let’s see here… just let me get used to the keys again.” He played out the first notes of Brooklyn Nights.

Abigail looked like she was about to melt into a puddle. It was clearly almost too much for her to take, and Gaga hadn’t even sung a lick yet.

That changed when she decided to jump in on Will’s playing. _“I always thought it was you… You always thought it was me…”_

Abigail collapsed onto the bus’s couch, unable to even stand. Tears welled up in her eyes. She’d never felt so overwhelmed by emotion in her young life.

_“I always thought even though… we were so young we could grow…”_

And then Abigail really was crying. She tried her best to stay quiet so she didn’t ruin the sound of the music, but she couldn’t help sniffling a little, and Gaga heard her. She stopped singing, turned to Abigail, and pulled her to her feet. “Wait a sec, Leo,” she said. “Don’t cry. You know the song, right? Let’s try singing it together.”

“I told you I can’t sing,” Abigail said with a little nervous laugh.

“Who gives a shit? Come on. Let’s do the chorus.”

Abigail nodded weakly and swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“Leo? Hit it.”

Will scanned the music to find the chorus, tracing along the lines with his finger. He tapped a bar, satisfied, and put his hands at the ready. He looked over to Abigail. She nodded at him, and he set into the song.

Gaga started alone first: _“It’s not that I don’t wanna love you…”_ She elbowed Abigail into action.

She finally joined in, and they set into the song in unison. Will didn’t think Abigail’s voice was half bad, and the incredible energy of playing with Lady Gaga and his adopted daughter made every cell in his body buzz with electricity.

 _“It’s not that I’m really over it, you know…”_ Gaga and Abigail sang. _“It’s just that I can’t watch us bleed to death… When we used to be… Brooklyn nights happy…”_

Abigail had stopped crying and was all grins by the time they neared the end of the song. Gaga let her take the last few lines alone: _“It’s not that I don’t wanna love you, cause I’ve really tried and I, just wanna hang with the old you for just one Brooklyn night adieu…”_

Will sang the very end along with her, reading from the sheet music: _“Maybe then we’ll both tell the truth, for just one Brooklyn night adieu.”_

Gaga applauded them with a grin on her face even bigger than Abigail’s. “See? _That’s_ what I’m talking about. That’s fucking magic, man. I’m glad I brought you guys along.”

“Me too,” Will said. “This has been spectacular.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Abigail said.

“ _Has_ been? Last I checked, the night’s not over.” Gaga pointed to Will’s watch. “What time is it? The sun’s not up yet, is it?”

Will checked it. “No, it’s 4 AM.”

“So we’ve got time. We roll out at six.” Gaga paused, then looked Will up and down with curious eyes. “You looked good with your shirt off,” she said brazenly. “And I like your glasses. You’re adorable.”

Will pushed them up on his nose. “Th-thanks?” he replied. She had him utterly flustered.

“If you weren’t married…” Gaga trailed off.

“Oh my god,” Abigail said. “Am I hearing this right?”

“I think you are,” Gaga said. “So Leo… how mad would your husband be if we had a little fun?”

Will sputtered in surprise. “I—wha—“

“I am _not_ hearing this,” Abigail said. “You want to… with _him_?”

“I’m just putting it on the table,” Gaga said. “Besides, it’s not like I know the guy, so I couldn’t spill even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to _say_ anything,” she said. “You just have to _do_ or _not do_.”

“What about Cassie? I can’t just…”

“One of my people can take her back. C’mon, Leo. It’d be a good time, don’t you think?” She crossed to him and stroked his cheek. His stubble prickled against her fingertips.

“You… You make a good case for yourself,” Will said. “But my husband—“

“Do it,” Abigail interrupted.

“Come again?”

“Do it. It’s Lady Gaga, for Christ’s sake. You’ll never get another chance like this in your life. I won’t tell Dad. So do it.” For the first time since the concert she looked deadly serious.

Gaga toyed with Will’s hair. “If the girl says do it… What do ya say, Leo? Wanna take a spin in the sheets with a superstar?”

Will hid his face in his hands.

“Don’t be shy, stud,” Gaga said.

Will sighed heavily, then, against his better judgment, he nodded.

“ _Perfecto_.”


	17. Capitolo Diciassette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Bedelia face off in her hotel room.

Hannibal’s first thought wasn’t _I’m cheating on my husband_. His first thought was _her lips taste like candy_. It was just the wine on them, of course, but he was hungry for more after draining his bottle. He moved his mouth against Bedelia’s for one, two, and three kisses. He put his hand at the small of her back and the other in her hair, kissing her softly, then with more urgency. He took his hand from her back to touch her breast… and then the thought he should’ve had in the first place screamed in his head.  _This is wrong_. His whole body tensed, and he pushed her away as gently as he could with his muscles as bundled up as they were.

She sighed heavily, in her usual theatrical manner. “Don’t play games, Hannibal.”

“There aren’t any games being played. I simply can’t.”

“You’re far more loyal than I expected you to be. The old Hannibal wouldn’t have been averse to a little dalliance.” She went back to the couch to sit, and crossed her legs slowly and suggestively. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew from the first session you said his name that Will Graham would be your downfall.”

Hannibal rubbed at his eyes to clear his vision. “He’s not my downfall,” he said. “He’s my savior.”

“Savior? Has he clouded your eyes so much? He’s dead weight.”

“He’s isn’t, but what you think doesn’t matter.”

“Perhaps, but even if you choose to ignore it, I _am_ curious about him.”

“Curious?” Hannibal asked. Their voices echoed in his head. He’d been foolish to let his guard down around Bedelia, but then again, intoxication wasn’t something he was used to.

“Curious in the way you were curious what would happen if you let his encephalitis run free. Naturally.” She smoothed her dress over her thighs. “In simple terms, I’m curious what will happen if you let him run free in your life.” She paused in thought, and Hannibal didn’t say anything during the silence. Bedelia held the cards now. “No, that’s not right, is it? He’s not free.”

Hannibal glanced between her and the bottle on the table.

“No more wine, Hannibal. Unless you’re taking me up on my offer.”

He shook his head and refocused his attention on her face. He was still standing. He didn’t want to get too comfortable with her again.

“Back to my point. He’s not free. You have him caged like an animal, don’t you? Maybe neither of you realizes it, but he’s simply one of your curios. You’ll be caught or killed before it happens, but you would eventually cut ties, and we all know what that would entail." She smirked. "When the time comes, do you think you could eat him?”

“Absolutely not,” he snapped. “I love him. I don’t expect you to understand; you have no knowledge of the emotion.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” she asked, ignoring his jab. “Being able to shed your person suit? Then again, you haven’t shed it completely. You still wear it as Roman Fell.”

“You’ve blindsided me with this. I thought we were friendly.”

She reached up and combed her fingers through her hair, pulling hard at the tips. “Friendly? That’s a word.”

“Was it an act?”

“That should be obvious by now. I was biding my time until I could see you again.”

“Why was that so important to you?”

She sighed again. “Because I care for you. I care for you more than I’ve ever cared for any other man. We had something once, you and I. We could have it again.”

He balled his hands into fists. “You risked my life _and_ Will’s by partnering with Alana Bloom so we could be lovers again?”

“When you put it like that it _does_ sound irresponsible, but my intentions were pure, I assure you. And as far as Alana is concerned, her Verger fortune was very useful tracking you to Barcelona. I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I did without her help.”

“Does she know you’re here? In Milan?”

Bedelia let a silence fall between them.

“Bedelia…” he said, his voice dripping with anger.

“Yes, she does,” she said finally. “But she doesn’t know you’re here, so you’ll be fine. Unless I decide to tell her, and who’s to say what I’ll decide?”

He gritted his teeth. “You know, I’ve always wondered what you would taste like,” he said. “Does that affect your decision?”

“You’re used to being the smartest man in the room,” she said in response. “That isn’t the case here, though I’m not a man. Like I said, Alana _does_ know where I am. If I disappeared now she’d know you were in Milan. The cold trail would be hot again, and you don’t want that, do you?”

“You’re going to tell her regardless,” Hannibal said.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’ve jilted you, and you’re not the type to take that calmly.”

“We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” Her face twisted into a smile that was nothing but perverse given the situation. “This was a nice visit. I’m glad we talked.”

Hannibal shook his head in disbelief. “You’re insane,” he said.

“Rich, coming from you,” she said, still smiling. She rose and walked to the door, her heels leaving little dents in the carpet behind her. She opened it wide. “I think it’s time to leave now,” she said. “I’d like to get some rest.”

He took a few apprehensive steps toward the door.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone anything tonight. I have my niece in tow, and I can’t involve her in this.”

“You just did,” Hannibal said matter-of-factly.

His comment had the desired effect. Bedelia’s nostrils flared in surprise, but true to form she didn’t lose her composure.

“This _was_ a nice visit. I wish you all the best,” he said. He took his phone out of his pocket and set it on the table as he passed by.

“That’s uncharacteristically rude of you,” she said, her smile fading.

“Sometimes,” he said in the doorway, “rudeness is called for.”

“I’ll see you again before you leave?”

“No, I don’t think you will.” He went into the hall, then turned to look at her over his shoulder to add: “Goodbye, Bedelia.”

And then he was gone.


	18. Capitolo Diciotto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Gaga recover from their tryst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note that I retconned all previous mentions of Madrid to Barcelona. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

“Aw,” Gaga pouted, “don’t do that, baby.”

Will stopped halfway through struggling into his Little Monster tee. “I have to leave eventually,” he said.

She sighed heavily and reached for her cigarettes. The sheet fell from her breasts as she propped herself up in bed, but she made no effort to cover herself. There wasn’t any point, after all; Will was intimately acquainted with them now. She tapped out a cigarette, then held the pack out to Will. He shook his head. She shrugged, flicked her lighter, and took a drag. Smoke curled up to the ceiling, and the scent of tobacco filled the bus.

“This was good,” he said. He pulled his shirt on fully and got up from the side of the bed. “Really good.”

Gaga nodded. “Nice ass,” she noted.

“Thanks,” Will replied. “You’ve got a pretty nice one yourself.”

“Flatterer,” she said, and ashed her cig into a beer can. “You’re a _damn_ good fuck, _L-L-Leo_. I needed that.”

“Don’t you get plenty on the road? People must be lining up.” He pulled up his boxers.

“I usually don’t have time. Maybe if I didn’t club so fucking much,” she said. “But it is what it is, you know? And sometimes I find someone like you and it clicks.”

“I still can’t believe I just slept with Lady Gaga,” he said, shaking his head in amazement.

“Oh please. You don’t need to pretend to hero worship me. I know you aren’t a super-fan like Cassie, and that shit only gets you so far.”

“I’m not hero worshipping,” he said. “It’s just highly, highly improbable.”

She laughed at that. “I get _that_ , then. And you can cut the Gaga shit out. Call me Stefani.”

“You sure? It’syour official title.”

She took another puff. “Leo, you’ve been inside me. I think you can call me by my real name.”

He snapped his attention back to her from looking for his jeans. “You get right to it, don’t you?”

“You’re just now figuring that out, huh?”

“I already knew,” he said, “but I’m not used to it. My husband is about as formal as it gets.”

“Shame,” she said. “You should run wild and free together with moves like yours. Shame you’re married, too. I’d take you around with me if you didn’t have him and Cassie.”

“And I’d take you up on it,” he said without hesitation. “But, you know. Love and family and all that.”

“And all that indeed.” She paused a moment, letting her cigarette burn freely. “Say, why _don’t_ I take you guys around with me? At least for another stop or two? I’ve got an extra sleeper, and I’d kill to hang with Cassie some more.”

Will scratched at his stubble. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, why not? You know she would love it. I mean, I’ve never done it before, but it gets lonely on the road sometimes. Might be nice to have a cute little family along for the ride.”

“It’s tempting,” he said, glancing at her chest. “I’ll talk to Roman about it.”

She looked at the clock. “You’d better hurry. We roll out in like an hour.”

“Shit,” he said. He found his jeans and fished around in them for his phone. “Shit,” he repeated when he found it. Abigail had absolutely blown him up with texts.

“What’s wrong?”

“Apparently Roman was MIA when Cassie got back,” he said. “Looks like she found him, though.”

“Maybe he was having some fun of his own,” she said.

Will smirked to himself, back turned to her. “He’s not the type.”

“But you are, lucky for me.”

He zipped up his jeans and turned back to her. “Lucky for me, too.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said. She dropped her spent cigarette into the can. “You should call him, and fast.”

“Yeah. Hang on.” He tapped at his phone and held it up to his ear. “Ringing,” he said.

“I can tell,” she said, lighting up another cig.

The line clicked as Hannibal picked up on the other end. “Will? Where on Earth are you?” He sounded concerned, or maybe even upset, which was unusual for him to say the least.

“Cassie didn’t tell you?”

“No, she wouldn’t say. She just kept saying I wouldn’t believe her. Now she’s shut herself in the bathroom and won’t come out. She’s been _giggling_ in there. What’s happened to you two?”

“We ran into Gaga,” Will said.

“Roman? I’m being serious.”

“You just happened to run into _Lady Gaga_?”

“Marco said she might show up, remember? And she did,” Will said.

“Who’s Marco?” Gaga asked. Will held up a finger to shush her.

“Who was—Good lord, was that her? You _are_ being serious, aren’t you? Why did Cassie come back, then? Why are you still with her?”

“Uhh…” Will struggled to come up with an excuse. “She wanted to… talk to me about a new song. But she didn’t want Cassie to hear it, because she didn’t want to spoil it for a huge fan.”

Gaga shook her head slowly. “Moron,” she muttered.

“That doesn’t sound very likely,” Hannibal said. “When are you returning? We need to leave.”

“About that,” Will said. “We’ve been invited to, ah, go on tour with her.”

More silence.

“Roman…”

“Now you _really_ can’t be serious,” Hannibal said. “You know we need to get back to Florence.”

“You know how much this would mean to Cassie,” Will said. “And it’s her birthday and all… Come on, this is a once in a lifetime thing. Once in ten lifetimes.”

Dead air again, but this time Will sensed Hannibal was actually contemplating it. “You know…” Hannibal began, “this might actually be exactly what we need to do right now. _Exactly_. Yes. Cassie will be thrilled.”

Will gave Gaga a thumbs up. She squealed and clapped her hands, accidentally ashing her cigarette on the comforter as she did it. She brushed the ashes away and stage-whispered: “ _Perfecto_.”

“How should we get there? I doubt her security will let us near her bus in a taxi.”

Will took the phone from his ear for a moment. “Can you pick them up?” he asked Gaga.

“Not in this caravan,” she replied. “But I’ll send someone, yeah. Lemme get my phone.”

“Sounds like we’re good to go,” Will said into the receiver. “Are you both packed?”

“Yes,” Hannibal replied. “We were only waiting for you.”

“Why the rush?” Will asked.

“I, ah… It’s better if I explain the details in person, but we’re not safe in Milan now.”

Will cursed under his breath. He was glad Gaga was too absorbed in her own phone call to pay attention. “Will we be somewhere else?”

“We will be _anywhere_ else,” Hannibal said. “Especially if we’re traveling with a superstar. Who would expect it?”

“It iskind of bulletproof. Alright, I should go, but I’ll see you two soon?”

“As soon as we’re collected,” Hannibal said. “ _Ciao_ , dearest.”

“Bye, Roman. Love you.” He winced as he said the last part. He wasn’t sure if Hannibal would actually care about what he’d just done, but it definitely felt like a betrayal. He terminated the call and looked over to Gaga, who’d just gotten off the phone as well. “All systems go,” he said.

“Now then…” she said, “we’ve got some time until they get here. An hour at least, right? I told them not to hit the road until your family gets here, so…”

Will smiled, understanding dawning on his face. His hands fell to his belt buckle. “So... I guess _so_ this?”

“So exactly that,” she said. “C’mere, big boy. It’s time for round two.”

He whipped off his shirt and hopped onto the bed, tugging off his jeans and boxers as he went. “Ready and willing,” he said playfully.

She rolled on top of him. “That’s what I like to hear.”


	19. Capitolo Diciannove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Abigail arrive at Gaga's caravan.

Will’s phone buzzed. He flopped over to the edge of the bed to grab it from the floor, and sputtered when he saw the text he’d gotten from Abigail: _We’re almost there!_ He leapt up and dressed himself double-quick. “They’re coming,” he said.

Gaga was still completely naked, and she didn’t rush for her clothes at the news. She puffed lazily on her _après sex_ cigarette. “Relax,” she said. “It’s not like they can just come barging in here.”

“They’ll wonder where we are,” Will said.

She shrugged. “Let ‘em wonder. The world would be a hell of a boring place without a little mystique.”

“I can’t risk it.”

“Are you ashamed?” she asked, regarding him curiously.

“Of what we did? No. I didn’t try to hide it from Cassie, did I? But I’m worried about what it might do to my husband.” _Worried that I might wake up Il Mostro_ , he thought gravely.

“I thought you said he wouldn’t care.”

“ _Probably_ wouldn’t. But there’s a chance he might…” he shook his head. “Never mind. I’m dressed and he won’t know any better unless we tell him.”

“You’re dressed, but you’re still giving yourself away,” she said with a smirk. “You buttoned your shirt crooked.”

He looked down at himself. “Shit,” he said, and started unbuttoning and re-buttoning. “Thanks for the heads up.”

His phone buzzed again: _OMG, I think he’s rly excited to meet her. This is SO weird._ Will doubted Hannibal would actually gush over a celebrity, but he must have been putting on a good show for Abigail. He really would do anything for her.

Will tapped back: _IKR_. He’d picked up some texting lingo from Abigail over the last couple years. He shoved his phone in his back pocket and looked back to Gaga. “I have to go,” he said. “Are you coming with me?”

She took one last drag of her cigarette until it was spent. “Yeah, sure. I don’t need that long to get dressed, anyway.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Will said. “What do you have planned for today? Another meat dress?”

“Funny, but no. I just got all the meat I needed.” She got up and stretched her arms. “Ahh, And I _really_ needed it. Thanks again, L-L-Leo. You’re a pal.”

Will couldn’t help but stare as she walked nude to her closet. He was surprised to find it fairly sparse when she opened it. She took out a ratty Iron Maiden t-shirt and a pair of barely-there denim cutoffs. Predictably, she didn’t put on any underwear. She cinched the bottom of the shirt so it bared her midriff and put on a pair of round dark glasses. The whole process took maybe a minute.

“See? Not long,” she said.

“Shoes?” he asked. He expected ridiculous heels, but she stepped into some flip-flops instead. “Jesus, you look like a normal person.”

She glared at him. Or at least he assumed she was glaring at him behind her shades. “I _am_ a normal person,” she said.

“You know what I meant,” Will said.

“Yeah, well. Let’s get out there. It’s show time, and all that.”

As if on cue, someone rapped on the door. “That’s them,” Will said.

She ran her hands through her hair and shook it out a little. “Like I said. Show time.”

 

* * *

 

The sedan Gaga sent for them was decidedly less ostentatious than the limo Abigail had ridden in on her last visit to the caravan, but it was vastly more elegant than the taxi Hannibal had taken from the concert. Neither of them minded the happy medium. The car was still far from cheap.

Abigail talked a mile a minute on the drive over. Hannibal did his best to be enthusiastic, but anyone who wasn’t clouded by the thrill of meeting her idol would’ve been able to tell he was only putting on a thinly-veiled show. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with Bedelia. And that kiss, even if he _had_ aborted it…

“Where are we going?” Hannibal asked, trying to clear his mind. They were closing in on their destination.

“Next stop Zurich,” Abigail sing-songed. “I wonder what Switzerland is like. I’ve only been to America and Spain and Italy… Hey, you’re rich, right? I bet you have a Swiss bank account.”

“Two, actually,” Hannibal said. “And one in the Caymans.”

She clapped her hands. “See? I knew it. I can guess everything about you by now.”

“Everything?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

She crossed her arms in a huff. “Okay, maybe not _everything_ , but most things. I’m pretty observant, you know. I know things even you don’t know.”

“You’re keeping secrets?”

“Everyone has secrets,” she said. “But I know what you’re gonna say…” She adopted a scarily accurate version of Hannibal’s voice: “ _You can’t keep secrets from me. It’s too dangerous. Be a good girl. I’m only trying to protect you._ ”

“And all those things are true, to a point,” Hannibal said. “In actuality, I do trust that you aren’t _too_ irresponsible. But do be careful. I know youths are prone to flights of fancy. Just be sure your particular flights aren’t harmful to us.” He paused. “Are your secrets harmful, Cassandra?”

“It should only be a minute,” the driver piped up.

“Awesome!” Abigail squealed. “And no,” she said in a quieter, more serious tone. “I wouldn’t put us at risk.”

“Good girl.” Hannibal patted her leg and peered out the window. “It seems we’ve arrived,” he said.

She bounced up and down in her seat. The driver brought the car to a stop, and she wasted no time in unbuckling her seatbelt and flinging the door open.

“Cassandra—“

She was gone before Hannibal could get a word out. He sighed and watched through the window as she sprinted up to an imposing man who he assumed to be security. The man pointed at one of the three buses. She did a little hop and scampered up to its door. Hannibal let himself out of the car, unloaded their suitcase, and made his way to the security guard.

“You must be Roman,” the guard said. “She’s waiting for you inside, but I have to check that.” Hannibal nodded and rolled the suitcase over for inspection. By the time the guard was done looking through their clothes and toiletries Abigail had already disappeared into the bus. “I’ll load this up for you,” the guard said, zipping up the luggage. “Go on. You’re cleared.”

“Thank you,” Hannibal said. He stepped up to the bus’s door and raised his fist to it, but let his hand linger in the air. “No going back now, I suppose,” he muttered, and knocked four times in quick succession.

The door opened, and Will appeared. “Roman!” he greeted, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

Hannibal started and gawked at him.

Will raised his brows. “Are you alright?” He checked his shirt again in case it was still sloppy.

Hannibal composed himself and put on his best fake smile. “Of course, Leo,” he said. “But that’s a lovely shirt you’re wearing. Too bad it’s a little big on you. I wonder where you acquired it; you should sue the tailor.”

It was Will’s turn to start now. He realized his mistake all at once: he’d been so overwhelmed by Gaga’s attention that he’d put on another man’s shirt. It was plaid, and so like the ones he usually wore. He’d been distracted and foolhardy. He glanced over his shoulder and, sure enough, his t-shirt lay crumpled on the floor. “It… I got my other one dirty?” he attempted.

Hannibal shook his head. “Just let me in, would you?”

“I… alright. And Roman, I—“

“Don’t,” Hannibal snapped.

Will swallowed hard and moved aside. Hannibal pushed past him.

Gaga turned to him wearing a genuinely wide grin. “You must be Roman,” she greeted. “Leo told me you were handsome, and he sure wasn’t wrong.” She offered her hand.

“Miss Germanotta,” Hannibal said tersely, ignoring her compliment as well as her hand.

Her grin vanished at his rejection. She pressed her lips into a tight line and pulled back her hand. “No. Call me Gaga.”

Will didn’t have to be told what had just passed between the two of them. He put his face in his hands. “Goddammit.”

“Goddammit what?” Abigail asked.

“He knows.”

“Oh,” Gaga said. She put on a grin again. “Well, at least it’s out in the open. I hope you’re not angry. It’s just, shit happens on the road, you know?”

“I’m not angry, _Gaga_. Far from it, in fact,” Hannibal said.

“Perfect. Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get us some wine.”

Will and Abigail exchanged a look of dread.

“Wine would be lovely,” Hannibal said. He seated himself on the cabin’s couch and patted the cushion next to him. “Come here, Leo. You should sit next to me. You _are_ my husband, after all. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s…” Will trailed off, his eyes moving between Hannibal and Gaga. “Yes, that’s right.”

Gaga pulled a bottle of wine from a cupboard and passed around some glasses. “So, since you’re not mad, why don’t we toast to free love?” She filled Hannibal’s glass first.

“Free love, and loving freely,” Abigail chimed, doing her best to lighten the mood as Gaga poured for her.

“Something like that,” Will said.

Hannibal, on the other hand, said nothing, even after they clinked glasses.

“You’re awfully quiet, Roman,” Gaga said after a few minutes of chitchat. “Something wrong?”

“No,” he said, “not exactly. I’m just wondering when my dear husband is going to notice the lipstick he’s smeared on the rim of his glass.”

Gaga threw her head back in laughter, wine in hand. “Sorry about that. I do wear a lot, don’t I? I must’ve gotten it all over him.” Their wine sloshed as the bus started moving. “Oh! We’re on our way. This is gonna be a great fucking trip.”

Will hung his head like a misbehaved dog. “Yeah,” he said. “Right.”

Hannibal sipped his wine. “Tell me: was he a good fuck?” he asked, emphasizing the expletive.

Abigail gasped. She’d never heard him use that word before. “Dad!”

“ _Very_ good,” Gaga replied. “Sorry for the TMI, Cassie.”

“I assumed he would be,” Hannibal said. “I’m very good as well, you know.”

Abigail whipped her head to him. “Dad! I am _not_ hearing this.”

“Are you proposing something, or just bragging?” Gaga asked.

“No,” Will said. “He’s not. Or I’m not. _Someone_ has to fucking not.” He chugged down his wine. “Can we move on? Please?”

“Okay,” Gaga said. “Let’s start over, Roman. I’m Stefani. Pleased to meet you.” She stuck out her hand.

This time Hannibal smiled back and took it. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Well,” Abigail said, “now that _that’s_ all over with, can we just have some fun? I mean, we’re on tour with my hero. _And_ it’s my birthday.”

“Music, maybe?” Will suggested.

“Sure. Music, wine, and good company,” Gaga said.

“Nothing better,” Hannibal said, still smiling.

But underneath Hannibal’s smile, Will could tell he was fuming. And there was something else there, too: a note of sadness, or regret. He reached over and squeezed Hannibal’s free hand. He mouthed: _I love you_ to him. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw his features soften a little.

He squeezed his hand back. He didn’t plan on telling him about the kiss he’d shared with Bedelia, though it weighed heavily on his mind. Seeing Will and Gaga so soon after their coupling made him wonder if he should’ve given in to her after all. Their separate choices had put them at an imbalance. As the bus rolled onward, so did the cogs in his mind, and he came to the realization that he _had_ made the wrong decision. He should have gone through with it; his rejection of her had most likely put his family in danger. Will, however, had no such reason for his tryst. He could’ve turned Gaga down with no repercussions at all.

And that realization did not make Hannibal a happy man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I'll be shaking things up a little next time. Please leave me a comment if you like the story, or leave one even if you don't. Feedback is great in general!


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years before the artRAVE, Bedelia receives a visit from the good Dr. Lecter. A year later, someone else arrives at her door with a proposition.

**TWO YEARS BEFORE THE ARTRAVE**

Bedelia sat on the edge of her bed, the picture of calmness, sipping the glass of wine she held in one hand while she kept the pistol in the other trained on the bathroom door. The shower was on inside. She’d come home to find it running, and she’d had no doubt of who she’d find inside, so she’d taken her gun from its box in her closet and loaded it with steady hands… _after_ she’d poured her drink, of course.

The water shut off, and a moment later the door opened. She cocked the gun.

Hannibal stood naked in the doorway, silhouetted by the light pouring in behind him. He dabbed at his face with one of her towels. It seemed that he hadn’t noticed her until he asked, “May I get dressed?”

“You may,” Bedelia said, gun leveled at the good doctor.

He dropped his towel to the floor in a heap and took a shirt and underwear from a small pile of clothes on the dresser by the bathroom door.

She watched him intently. “What have you done, Hannibal?” she asked.

“I’ve taken off my person suit,” he replied simply.

“You let them see you,” she said, not a question but a statement. It was already clear enough what had happened.

“I let them see enough,” he said.

“How does that make you feel?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. And in this situation, why not ask? She held the upper hand for once, she thought. The weight of the gun in her hand told her that much.

Hannibal shrugged into his shirt and began buttoning it. “You’re not in a position to ask, Dr. Du Maurier. You ended our patient-psychiatrist relationship.”

“I lacked the appropriate skills to continue your treatment.”

“I never found you to be lacking.”

She watched him tuck his shirt into his freshly-donned pants. “Is Will Graham still alive?”

“That’s why I’ve come,” Hannibal said. “Will is very much alive. We’ve decided to leave Baltimore.”

She paused to take that in. “We? You mean together?”

“I do,” he replied. “Good Will warned me that Jack Crawford was on his way to arrest me.”

“Where is Will now?”

“Safe. He went on ahead of me. I had things to take care of first. Namely yourself.” He finished fastening his pants and smoothed the front of his shirt. “Put the gun down, Bedelia. I’m not here to kill you.”

She hesitated, then sighed and set the pistol aside. She took a sip of her wine. “You want me to cover your tracks,” she said.

“Yes. You’ll do that much for me.”

“Why are you so sure?

“We’re lovers. Or perhaps I should say we _were_ lovers. Regardless, I know you feel for me an inordinate amount. More than I ever felt for you, I’m afraid.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m aware of that. You were never the type to…” she trailed off.

“To what?” he asked. “Fall in love with you?”

She looked away. “I’ve known it all along, but I can’t help my own emotions.”

“If you _are_ in love with me, you won’t mind keeping tabs on a few things for me, will you?”

“Such as?”

“I’ve left a mobile phone on your kitchen counter,” he said. “You may use it to contact me; it’s quite untraceable. I need eyes here in Baltimore. Eyes on the FBI and their movements, and eyes on Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford, should they survive.”

She arched her brow at him.

“The last time I saw Jack he was choking on a shard of glass,” he explained. “But luck may favor him yet. Alana called emergency services before she took a fall from my window. It’s possible they arrived in time.”

“And I certainly hope they did,” she said. “Jack Crawford is a good man, Hannibal. He’s done nothing to deserve this.”

“He was a necessary casualty. Will and I… We needed a gesture. He was that gesture.”

“You killed a good man as a gesture?” she asked. “That’s low, even for you.”

“ _Probably_ killed,” Hannibal corrected. “But that’s not the point. I’ll be leaving soon, now that I’ve washed the blood off. You’ll be questioned. I’d like you to tell them you believe I fled to South America. Perhaps Argentina. It would be believable; a man of my tastes would thrive in Buenos Aires.”

“And if I turn you in?”

Hannibal frowned. “You wouldn’t do that, and you won’t know where I am besides. So, can I trust you to lie for me, Dr. Du Maurier?”

She sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I? You’d kill me if I cooperated.”

“Most likely.”

“I’ll cover for you,” she said. “But not because you threatened me. Only because I care for you.”

“Because you love me?”

“Yes,” she said. “Because I love you. But I have one question, if you’ll permit me.”

“You’ve asked quite a few questions already. I don’t see the harm in one more.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“I love Will much more deeply than you could ever love me,” he said. “He and I are the same. We find no others to be worthy of our emotions.”

Bedelia let out a sad little laugh. “Emotions? I wasn’t aware you had any. Go on then, Hannibal. I’ll protect you,” she said, but there was a certain edge to her voice that disconcerted him. He wrote it off as jealousy.

“Thank you, Bedelia. These last few years have been a pleasure. I’ll be in touch.”

With that, he left her alone on her bed to tend to her wine.

 

* * *

 

 

**ONE YEAR BEFORE THE ARTRAVE**

 

Hannibal didn’t check in with her as often as he’d said he would. Bedelia kept the phone he’d given her in her purse at all times with the ringer turned up as high as it would go. She played nonchalant in her own texts to him, which she sent more frequently as time went on. They established a rapport, and though it was she usually initiated the texted, she liked to think that they became friends. They’d been _friendly_ before, sure, but they’d never really been _friends_. She’d thought Hannibal to be incapable of making friends. Lovers, yes, but never friends.

Over time, though, a paranoid thought began to gnaw its way into her brain: what if it was all an act? She’d try to shake it off, but as their friendship deepened, so did her already-established feelings for him. And because of those feelings, she continued to toe the party line with Jack Crawford. South America. Maybe Argentina. _Hannibal spoke about a villa in Buenos Aires_ , she’d tell him. _I’m sure he’s there. I’m sure of it._ But the only thing she was sure of was that he was definitely not in Buenos Aires.

Then, a year and change after he’d absconded with Will to wherever it was they’d scampered off to, she had a visitor. Bedelia had never actually met her, but she was a famous woman: Alana Bloom, the great philanthropist and wife of Margot Verger-Bloom, heiress to the Verger fortune. And, more importantly, Hannibal’s former protégé. She’d nearly died the night he disappeared. She maintained it was Abigail Hobbs who’d pushed her out that window, but no one really believed that. Abigail Hobbs was a murder victim. The police figured Alana had just hit her head on the concrete a little too hard and gotten confused. She began to doubt her state of mind so much that she ended up believing it, too. It must’ve been Hannibal. _Of course_ it had been Hannibal. He was the one who’d attempted to murder Jack Crawford that very night, after all.

Alana didn’t call ahead. Bedelia opened her door to find her standing on her front porch. “Dr. Du Maurier,” Alana said by way of greeting.

“May I help you?” Bedelia asked after a short pause.

“I think you can,” Alana said. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Bedelia stepped aside and Alana slipped past her. “I’m a bit surprised,” she said, standing in the entryway.

“Surprised how?” Alana asked, looking around the hall.

“Surprised to have a celebrity show up at my home out of the blue.”

“I knew you’d know who I was,” Alana said. “You probably know why I’m here, too.”

“This is an odd way to arrive at someone’s home,” Bedelia said. “And launching into a conversation without the proper pleasantries, as well. But I expect you’re here about Hannibal Lecter.” The words felt like poison falling out of her mouth. _Hannibal Lecter_. Her old flame. She hadn’t spoken his name in months.

“Odd or not, I thought I’d get straight to the point, and you’re right, anyway. I’m not the biggest fan of yours, but I think you could be useful to my search.”

“Your search?” Bedelia asked. She turned and set off for the living room without a word. Alana followed behind her. “You’re trying to find him, then?”

“Yes,” Alana replied. The two of them settled into the opposite chairs Bedelia once used for therapy. “I am.”

“Why now? It’s been months,” Bedelia said.

“I’m well enough now. I’ve even adjusted to married life. But I have nightmares, Dr. Du Maurier, nightmares that won’t stop, just like I’m sure Hannibal won’t stop. He’s out there killing again, I’m sure of it. I have the means to start a manhunt now that I have access to the Verger fortune. My wife wants me to look for him, if only to ease my nightmares. I’m more concerned about his potential victims.”

“He could be anywhere in the world,” Bedelia said. She showed no emotion. “How do you expect to find him?”

“I spoke with Jack Crawford at length. He believes you and Hannibal had more than just a doctor-patient relationship. Is that true?”

Bedelia said nothing, but her silence was confirmation enough.

“I thought so,” Alana said. “You were lovers?”

“It’s awfully rude to barge into someone’s home with personal questions like this, Dr. Bloom.”

“I take it you were, then,” Alana said. “I’m sure he intimated things to you. Things about where he might be going. Or am I wrong?”

“I already told the FBI everything I know,” Bedelia replied. “Ask Jack, if you’re so curious.”

“I did. You told him Hannibal fled to Argentina.”

“Then you have your answer. I’m unsure of your intentions here.”

“I don’t believe you told the truth,” Alana said. “I believe he asked you to lie for him. And I think, as his lover, you agreed.”

“That’s a lot to assume,” Bedelia said.

“He never went to Argentina, did he?”

“Of course he did. He has a villa—“

“I have proof that he flew to Paris,” Alana said, cutting her off. “Your story doesn’t mesh with the facts.”

Bedelia pulled her fingers through her hair. “And if I _was_ lying, why do you think I would help you now?”

“Because I think you cared about him once. Maybe you loved him. I think you want to find him as much as I do.”

“You want to kill him, don’t you?” Bedelia said. “Why would I want that?”

“He spurned you,” Alana replied. “He left you to live alone for thirteen months, with no friends to speak of. And he _knew_ you would be alone. He probably knew you’d spend the time pining for him, too. So wouldn’t he deserve it?”

Bedelia pursed her lips. She’d promised Hannibal that she’d protect him. But her want for him had done nothing but grow over the time he’d been gone. He’d rejected her, but she’d never fallen out of love with him. But it wasn’t the _right_ kind of love. Just as she grew more and more attached, she grew more and more bitter. He hadn’t just spurned her, he’d spurned her for a man he’d known for so much shorter than he’d known her. And she did mean _know_ , in the Biblical sense. They’d been spinning in the sheets for years. She truly had no idea where he actually was, but… Alana was right. He did deserve _something_ , both for what he’d done to her and what he’d done to all those people, though the latter didn’t bother her as much as the former. But Bedelia didn’t want him killed. She wanted one last chance to take him as her own, and Alana’s generous bank accounts offered an excellent way to find him. So maybe she could go along, but strike out on her own when the time came. And if he rejected her again? _Then_ she would hand him over to Alana.

After a while, she said, “He’s not in Argentina.”

Alana smiled.


	21. Kapitel Einundzwanzig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaga's bus arrives in Zurich, and she has a proposition for Will and Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't written in a while, I haven't been feeling tip-top. Which is probably why this chapter isn't that great, but I figured I should update anyway since it's been so long! Comments appreciated, as always.

Their caravan finally arrived in Zurich, and Hannibal couldn’t be happier. The four hour trip had been a blast for Abigail, and he was glad for that, but the fact that Will was enjoying himself so much, too, almost—dare he say it?—hurt him. He wasn’t a man who was accustomed to feeling anything close to _hurt_ , but here he was. Someone more neurotypical might have called the emotion quiet anger, though; anger directed at Will for cheating on him, at himself for letting it happen, and, in all honesty, doubly so at himself for not sleeping with Bedelia. He’d wanted to stay true to Will, but Will hadn’t bothered staying true in return, and now he felt like a fool for believing in him.

“And this other time—I don’t think you know about this, Roman—Cassie brought home a man twice her age. No joke. Roman was off in, where was it, Cass?” Will asked.

“Paris, I think,” Abigail said. “And yeah, maybe he was twice my age, but he was _hot_. You can’t blame me, can you?”

Will and Gaga both laughed at that, but Hannibal stewed. “You brought a man into our home?”

“It’s not like it was a big deal or anything,” Abigail said. “It was just sex.” She was smiling, but inside she was thinking: _Fuck, why did Will bring that up? If Gaga wasn’t here he’d be furious._

Gaga noticed the expression on Hannibal’s face and laughed even harder. She wiped away a tear. “You thought she was a virgin, didn’t you?”

“I’m exhausted,” Hannibal said, ignoring her. “When do we get to the hotel?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gaga replied. “Lighten up. You’ve been a wet blanket this whole time. Live a little, like these two.”

“We’re not living a little…” Abigail began.

“…We’re living _a lot_ ,” Will finished. They grinned at each other. “So, Switzerland, eh? Have you been here before?” he asked Gaga.

“Yeah, on every one of my tours. So this’ll be the fourth time around.”

“How do you like it?” Hannibal asked, surprising all of them by engaging in the conversation. Gaga’s _wet blanket_ comment had gotten to him. His person suit had clearly come close to slipping a little.

“It’s nice,” she replied. “My Swiss fans are pretty awesome.”

“You say that about all your fans,” Will said.

“It’s true, though,” she said. “I love touring. International Monsters are so much more passionate than the ones in the States.”

“I noticed that,” Abigail said. “At least, they were way more into it than the people at the Monster Ball when I saw you there.”

“You’ve seen me before?” Gaga asked. Abigail was sitting next to her on the couch, and she brought her in for a big side-hug. “I love that. But clearly it was Roman’s first time.” She looked over to Will and slid her glasses down the bridge of her nose so she could see him clearly. “And I _know_ it was your first time.”

“Yes, I’m sure you _know_ plenty. Especially about Leo,” Hannibal said.

Will and Abigail snapped their attention to him. They expected to see anger or resentment, but he was smiling, too. “What…?” Will choked out.

“I can joke about it, can’t I?” Hannibal replied.

“Damn straight you can,” Gaga said. “It was no big deal.” She pushed her glasses back into place. “I don’t get enough on the road.”

“Then who does that shirt belong to?” Hannibal asked.

Gaga scratched her chin. “Uhh…” She studied it for a few seconds. “I think it’s Taylor’s. I’m not sure, honestly, I just wear it sometimes when I’m chilling. It’s soft, y’know?”

“It _is_ soft,” Will said.

“Your flannels always are,” Hannibal said. “I can see how you might mistake it for your own, other than the size.”

“That’s funny as hell,” Gaga said. “The guy I just fucked is wearing my boyfriend’s shirt. Whoops.” She laughed that infectious laugh of hers again, but Hannibal found it distasteful this time. He was boiling under the surface.

“Yeah,” he said. “Funny.”

“I think it’s hilarious,” Abigail said. She was so star-struck she’d be on board with anything Gaga did, though, as evidenced by her rapid acceptance of Will’s cheating. “I mean, it’s _Taylor Kinney’s shirt_. I wish _I_ could try it on.”

“Why don’t you?” Gaga said. “Leo has another shirt to wear anyway.”

“You’re serious?” Abigail asked, eyes wide.

“Sure,” Gaga replied. “Strip ‘n swap, Monsters.”

Hannibal looked horrified at the prospect, but Will just shrugged and started to unbutton Taylor’s shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it to Abigail. She caught it and started to push her arm through the right sleeve, but Gaga caught her by the shoulder.

“Don’t you wanna feel it on your skin?” she asked. “If you’re so gung-ho to wear it, you should get the full experience.”

Abigail bit her lip. “You mean take off my tee?”

“Why not? Are you shy or something?”

“I’m… a little bit. I don’t care if _you_ see, but my dads…”

“They don’t give a shit,” Gaga said. “Do they?”

“I’ll just close my eyes if you’re so worried about it,” Will said after he’d put his own shirt back on.

Hannibal stood and turned away in disgust. Now Abigail was falling into Gaga’s corruption, too. “Fine,” he said, but it _wasn’t_ fine, not to him, anyway.

Abigail reached down to grip the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She put it in a little pile with Will’s.

“Damn, woman,” Gaga said. “You were hiding some nice tits under there.”

Hannibal almost gagged. Will, on the other hand, couldn’t help but peek. He had to agree, and he felt a surge of pride for her. It was odd considering she wasn’t his biological daughter, but the fact that someone as famous as Lady Gaga found her attractive made him feel warm inside. Then he remembered that she’d found _him_ so attractive that she’d fucked him—twice— and he felt even warmer. This time, though, that warmth was focused in a place much lower than his heart.

Abigail blushed hard. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Don’t be shy,” Gaga said. “Flaunt it. What do you usually wear? Just t-shirts, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, exclusively,” she replied.

“Widen your wardrobe and show some cleavage. You’ll have all the boys staring. And girls, if you’re into that.” She paused. “ _Are_ you into that?”

“Never really thought about it,” Abigail said. “I guess I’d try it out…”

“Well, I’m here if you want an education,” Gaga said.

Hannibal spun back around to glare at her. “You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

“Why not? She’s a big girl. She can make her own choices.”

Will shook his head. “That’d be _really_ weird for me. _Please_ don’t sleep with my daughter after sleeping with me.”

“Finally, he says something reasonable,” Hannibal muttered.

“I don’t—I mean, I—I would, I really don’t care if you fucked Leo, but I just… you’re my hero,” Abigail said. “It would be too crazy. I wouldn’t know what to do. I’d just freeze up. I barely knew what to do just _meeting_ you.”

“I’d make it easy for you,” Gaga said. “We could go nice and slow.”

“…Maybe,” Abigail said.

“For the love of god, would you put that shirt on?” Hannibal urged.

“Shit!” Abigail shrugged into it and fastened the buttons partway up. She wanted to be true to Gaga and show at least a little bit of cleavage. She shivered. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m wearing his shirt.”

Gaga leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes went wide.

“What now?” Hannibal asked. “More invitations for sex?”

“Stefani, please,” Will begged. “That would be _so_ strange. I just… I wouldn’t fault her for it, but it’d be really, really strange.”

Gaga held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! I won’t fuck your stepdaughter. Are you happy?”

Will breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah,” he said, “I really am.”

The bus rolled to a stop. “I think we’re here,” Gaga said.

“Touchdown, Zurich!” Abigail cheered. She noticed her shirtsleeves fell over her hands, so she rolled them up. The oversized flannel actually looked pretty good on her.

“Hey, Roman?” Gaga asked.

“Yes?”

“I have a question. Maybe you’ll be okay with it, maybe you’re not gonna like it.”

Hannibal braced himself for something terrible. “Go ahead,” he said.

“I’ll have the penthouse, right? Real deluxe. So you guys should stay with me. There’ll be separate bedrooms… I was just thinking, You and Leo should bunk in mine.” She took off her shades and batted her eyelashes at Hannibal. “Share and share alike?”

Hannibal was aghast at first, but after all that had happened, he found that he honestly wasn’t opposed to it. She and Will had already slept together, so it didn’t matter if _they_ did it again. The damage was already done there, especially considering how unrepentant Will was about it, so more sex wouldn’t make it any worse. So in the end, why not join them? At least he’d be getting something out of it. “Fine,” he said. “What could it hurt?”

“Ugh,” Abigail groaned. “I am _not, not, not, not_ hearing this.” She looked down at herself. “But I still can’t believe I’m wearing Taylor Kinney’s shirt,” she said yet again.

“And _I_ can’t believe you’re okay with this,” Will said to Hannibal.

“It’s just for fun, isn’t it? I’d be remiss to deny us that.” Cogs turned in Hannibal’s head as he spoke the words. _Just for fun_. If Will could sleep with Gaga without a thought, and was willing to let him join in just for fun… and Hannibal had an actual _reason_ to sleep with Bedelia… Maybe he shouldn’t _only_ engage in the _ménage à trois_ after all. Maybe he had a better option, too.

Will, Abigail, and Gaga seemed to forget about the whole thing and got lost in conversation again, something about how beautiful Zurich was, and Hannibal took the opportunity to pull out his _real_ phone while they were distracted. He scrolled to his texting app, tapped in a number he knew by heart, took a deep breath, and entered a message: _I’ve had second thoughts._

It buzzed with a reply: _My, my. Has the good doctor texted me from his personal phone? I’ll have it traced in moments. Expect me. Bedelia Du Maurier_

He slid the phone back into his pocket. Bedelia wouldn’t report his location to Alana with the promise of sex at hand, and after she’d had her fill he’d simply destroy the SIM card before they left Zurich. He didn’t feel bad for what he’d initiated. After all, if Will could have his fun, so could he.

“Who was that?” Will asked. He’d noticed after all.

“Just spam,” Hannibal said with a forced smile.

Will seemed skeptical. “Alright,” he said, and turned back to Gaga and Abigail.

Hannibal felt a twinge of affection for him in that moment, seeing him so happy, but it was quickly replaced by anticipatory lust for Bedelia. They were thoroughly different emotions, and the second couldn’t supplant the emotion of the first any more than it could for Will. After this trip, they’d go back to being a normal family again: nothing gained, nothing lost. Or so he hoped. The only question was how to give Will and Gaga the slip after they’d had their tryst.

He wouldn’t be able to until later, anyway. It probably wouldn’t take Bedelia long to get to Switzerland, so if he was going to dally with Will and Gaga, he had to do it as soon as possible. “I assume we’ll be _hooking up_ the moment we arrive?”

Abigail almost choked at his choice of words. He’d clearly picked them up from her. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said. “Both of you? With Lady Gaga? For fuck’s sake.”

Hannibal didn’t bother to correct her language. He planned on being with two women and one man in the next twenty-four hours, so he was in no position to take the moral high ground.

“You’re eager,” Gaga said. “I like that. Yeah, sure, we can hit the bed as soon as we walk in the door. You don’t mind, do you, Cassie?”

Abigail shook her head. “It’s fine.” But her voice was flat and grave. “Just don’t take too long,” she added.

“I know, I know,” Gaga said. “You want as much time with me as possible. That’s cool. But it’s not like we don’t have all the time in the world. I can take you along to the next stop, too, y’know.”

“Really?” Abigail asked, suddenly excited. “Where’s that? I’m so sorry, I forgot your schedule.”

Gaga laughed again. “You had it memorized? Dedicated girl. We’ll be headed for...”

Hannibal felt dread rise in his belly at her answer. Now he was even gladder he’d texted Bedelia. They were headed for the very place she’d tracked them to. The very place Alana Bloom knew about.

_We’ll be headed for Barcelona_.


	22. Kapitel Zweiundzwanzig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO. I'm back after two months of writing non-fanfic "real" stuff. As in I wrote a novel. But I'm so glad to be back. This is as graphic as it's going to get, I swear, but I hope you guys enjoy my nonsensical Gaga-centric story as much as I enjoy writing it. Bon appetit!

Hannibal did feel a little bad about leaving Will and Gaga fast asleep in their plush four-poster bed—at least as bad as a man like him could feel—but in his eyes it was a necessary evil. Bedelia had already arrived. He’d gotten the text moments after he’d finished rolling around in bed with his husband… and perhaps the most famous woman in the world.

The text read: _Room 401. Don’t dally too long or you’ll bore me. You don’t want to bore me. Bedelia Du Maurier_

She opened the door just as he raised his hand to knock. “Dr. Fell,” she said. There was more than a hint of a smirk on her face.

“Dr. Du Maurier,” he returned.

She held the door open for him as he stepped across the threshold. The room wasn’t nearly as deluxe as the penthouse, but it was still far nicer than something like your average Hilton. She closed the door and faced him. “I wondered if you’d even come,” she said.

“Did I really have a choice?”

“No,” she said, “I suppose not. You sealed your fate with a single text.”

“I don’t regret it,” he said. “I expect you want me for my body?”

“Something like that,” she said.

“Where is your niece?”

“Her own room. Separate. She knows what I’m doing, I’m sure, but she kept quiet for once. The poor dear is probably still hung over.”

“Poor dear, indeed,” he muttered.

Bedelia tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. “You don’t sympathize?”

“What is there to sympathize with?” he replied. “She’s a child.”

“A child with a hangover. I think that’s something we can all sympathize with.”

 _Not me_ , Hannibal thought, though he didn’t say anything.

“Come,” Bedelia said. She turned and ventured into the room proper.

He followed after her, and when she settled herself on the bed he noted for the first time that she was in bare stockings with no heels. Her skirt rode up on her hips a little as she sat. He looked away. “You should cover yourself,” he said.

“Oh, please. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, _Dr. Fell_.” She bit her lower lip for a moment and scanned him up and down. “Nothing you haven’t _wanted_ to see before.”

Hannibal cleared his throat nervously. “Yes, well, that was then,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

“But you must still have some urge for me. Some…” she drew out a silence, “…ache?”

“I have nothing of the sort,” Hannibal tried to say as firmly as he could. It didn’t come out as strong as he would’ve liked.

“Hannibal?” she asked. “Look at me.”

He turned his eyes up from the floor and dragged them laboriously up her stocking-clad legs, past her—was that a dash of red underneath?—skirt, up her far too unbuttoned blouse, and finally to her eyes. They shone with her brilliance. They shone with her intensity. But most of all, they shone with deviance.

Her lips twitched upward, once, twice, then fixed into a proper slight smile. “You’re a good liar, you know. So why are your lies so painfully obvious to me now? You ache. Tell me you ache.” She leaned forward as she said it, exposing her plunging neckline and the cleavage beneath. “Tell me.”

He thought for a moment that he might continue with his lie, but… “No, you’re right. The truth… I’m unaccustomed to telling the truth.”

“Except with Will Graham?”

“Will, yes. And Abigail.”

“Ah,” Bedelia said, leaning back again. “Abigail. Hobbs, wasn’t it? They still think she’s dead. You pulled off quite the disappearing act.”

“That was my intention,” he said. “And it’s the reason I’m in this room now.”

“Tch,” she chided. “I know there's another reason. And beside that, you know I wouldn’t spill your secrets to someone as base as Alana Bloom.” She patted the bed beside her. “Sit.”

Hannibal sat. He knew it would give her a thrill to order him around successfully, and under normal circumstances he never would’ve given in, but everything about the last forty-eight hours had been far from normal. “But you _are_ working with her,” he said, making a point to stare at the generic framed art print on the wall.

“Am I? Maybe I was. Maybe I am. Or maybe this changes things.” She caught his chin between her delicate finger and thumb and turned his head to meet her gaze. “Or maybe it won’t. Who’s to know? There are ways you could…” She trailed off and raised her finger to graze his lips. “…Tilt in your favor.”

“Such as?” he said breathily. He was suddenly having a hard time keeping control of himself at her touch.

“A better question is: What do you want right now, _Dr. Fell_? Do you want…” She took her hand away from his face and traced down her neck to her chest, and then into her blouse. One of the buttons popped from the pressure.

Hannibal swallowed hard. “I want to take you.”

“Take me? However do you mean?” she asked, playing coy.

“Ravenously,” he said, his sight glued to her now, the art print long forgotten.

“My, my.” She tangled her hand in the back of his hair and pulled him toward her until their lips were inches apart. “I think you ought to kiss me now, _Dr. Fell_.”

“Quit with the _Dr. Fell_ ,” he said, chest heaving in deep, rapid breaths. “I’ve never been a doctor with you.”

“We’ve _played_ doctor,” she said, her smile expanding.

“I’ve only been Hannibal,” he continued, ignoring her joke.

“Well then. _Hannibal_. If you’re so ravenous, now’s the time to ravish me.”

“Glady,” he whispered, and closed the distance to kiss her. It was a strong kiss, powerful and sexual, unlike the almost-kiss they’d shared back in Milan. That kiss had been tentative and ultimately inconsequential. There had been hesitation. With this there was none. There was only _ravenous_ lust that became more and more apparent with each motion of their lips. And her lips were soft and welcoming: not like Will’s, who he so often fought for dominance with. But that thought didn't even cross his mind. He felt completely separated from his husband as he kissed her.

What started as mere kissing quickly segued to the obscene. Her hand moved to his crotch. She laughed a little against his lips at what she found. “Already prepared, are we?” she teased. “That didn’t take much.”

“You always did have that effect on me,” he said, and in that moment he forgot all about Will, and all about Gaga for that matter, though he'd just been intimate with both of them. His only focus was on his old flame sitting so very close to him with her hand at his most intimate places.

“During sessions?” she asked, beginning to move her hand. “Or after?”

He closed his eyes tight to enjoy the sensation. He lost himself in her touch. “You know as well as I do,” he said. “Our sessions were never anything more than psychological foreplay.”

“And the glass of wine after?” She kept up her ministrations in slow, deliberate motions. “Was that a factor?”

“Beyond the taste?” he said. “No.” He opened his eyes again and smiled at her in spite of himself, showing his elongated eyeteeth. “I’ve missed you, Bedelia.”

“And I’ve missed you,” she said, and dove in for another kiss. Another kiss… and then so much more. Hannibal didn't complain. He welcomed it. And that was the worst part of it all.

Will be damned.


	23. Kapitel Dreiundzwanzig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes to an empty bed.

Will woke to an empty bed. He sighed and stretched out. His body was sore from all the action he’d engaged in in the last… how long had it been? Thirty-six hours? Forty-eight? He didn’t even know what time it was. He turned his head to check the clock on the bedside table. 4:45 in the morning. An odd time for Hannibal and Gaga to be awake, but then again, Gaga was nothing if not odd.

He slipped out of bed and tugged on his boxer briefs and jeans, shrugged into his shirt—though he didn’t bother buttoning it—and let himself out of the bedroom and into the suite’s common area. He found Gaga seated cross-legged on a plush couch, with her bottom lip pressed between her teeth as she scribbled something on a pad of paper.

She looked up at the sound of the door closing behind him. “Hey, Leo,” she said. She seemed distracted.

“What are you up to?” Will asked. He settled into a loveseat caddy-corner to her couch.

“Lyrics,” she said simply. She frowned and scratched out a line. “Shit,” she muttered, “it’s shit.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Will asked. “You have a show tonight.”

She looked up at him and gave a pained smile. “I can’t control when inspiration comes. I’m no stranger to performing exhausted, anyway. It’s status quo on a tour like this.”

Will nodded as if he understood. He realized something then, and looked around the room. “Where’s Roman?”

“You don’t know?” she asked, focused on her paper again. “I figured he would’ve told you.”

“No,” Will replied. “Maybe he didn’t want to wake me. But where did he go?”

“Hell if I know.”

“That’s comforting,” Will said. “Maybe he went for a walk?”

“Like I said… Hell if I know.” She paused. “Oh!” She wrote down a few lines. “Yeah, yeah, that’s good,” she muttered, and underlined something.

“How long have you been out here?”

“Like an hour,” Gaga said.

“He’s been gone _over an hour?_ ”

“I guess so. That _is_ a little weird. But your man, he seems pretty weird anyway.”

Will grimaced. _If you only knew_ , he thought. “Maybe he’s outside? Needed some air, or something?”

“Yeah, you should go check,” Gaga said. “I could use some peace and quiet anyway. I’m onto something here.”

“Alright,” he said. “Abigail’s still asleep?”

“As far as I know,” Gaga said. “I might wake her up, now that I think of it. It’d be nice to have a fan to bounce this off of. If I could get the melody…” She tore the page off of the notepad and started drawing a string of musical notes on the next page.

Will shrugged and headed for the front door.

“Might wanna button that first,” Gaga called.

He looked down and blushed. He’d almost left the room with his shirt wide open. He buttoned it, pulled his shoes on, and opened the door. He headed for the elevator. Just as he was about to press the _down_ button, the doors slid open, and an extremely disheveled-looking Hannibal presented himself.

“Hannibal?”

“No, Roman,” Hannibal corrected with some annoyance.

“Where have you been?”

“Ah… I needed to clear my head.”

“Clear your…?”

“That was a new experience for me,” Hannibal said. “I had to think. To decompress.”

Will narrowed his eyes a little. “Is it just me, or do you not sound convincing in the least?”

“Are you suggesting I’m being dishonest?”

“I’m not sure,” Will said, “but you disappeared for over an hour and now your only excuse is that you needed to _clear your head_?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, gritting his teeth. “Would you let me out now?”

Will frowned and stepped aside.

Hannibal exited the elevator car. “My thanks,” he said. “Let’s get back to the room, shall we?” Just as he started to walk, Will caught him by the arm.

“Roman,” he began, “why is your top button undone?”

“My top…?” Hannibal reached for his collar and fastened it. “I must’ve forgotten. Isn’t that understandable, considering what we just did?”

“You? Forget a button? No, I don’t think that’s understandable.” Will tightened his grip. “And you smell like something floral. Something that isn’t Gaga’s perfume.”

“I must have walked by—“

“No,” Will snapped. “Whose room did you just visit?”

“Visit? I don’t know what you mean, I didn’t—“

“Don’t lie to me. This doesn’t have to be a fight, but it will be if you’re not honest. Don’t start a fight on Cassie’s birthday. Especially not with Gaga around.”

Hannibal sighed heavily. “You won’t like the answer. It’ll cause an even larger fight.”

“Try me,” Will said.

“No,” Hannibal said, shaking his head. “I think not.”

“Who could you possibly know in Zurich? Tell me, Roman. I need to know.”

“Am I not permitted a dalliance? I believe _you_ were the one who dallied with Stefani in the first place.”

“At least I told you about it.”

“No. I found out about it. There’s a significant difference.”

“Well, I would have told you about it given the chance,” Will said. He knew it wasn’t entirely true, but he said it anyway. “I’m not judging you. But I need to know.”

“I met her in the bar downstairs,” Hannibal said.

“The bar is closed. It’s four AM.”

Hannibal swallowed hard. “You really want to know?”

“I do.”

Hannibal fell silent for a moment. Then: “It was Bedelia Du Maurier. Satisfied?”

Will’s jaw dropped.

“I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

Will squinted harder and let go of Hannibal’s arm. “We won’t fight about this now, not on Cassie’s birthday,” he said. “But you’d better believe we’ll pick this up again the second we get home. How did you ever—why is she here?”

“Simple coincidence,” Hannibal said.

Will pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “It’s not the same, you know. Not the same as Stefani and me. You _know_ Bedelia. You two have… before.”

“Leo,” Hannibal said calmly, “it wasn’t my idea.”

“Not your idea? How…” Will trailed off as the answer dawned on him. “You mean she blackmailed you into it?”

“Not entirely, but yes, partially. She insinuated she would give our location away to Alana Bloom.”

“Alana?” Will asked. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“Apparently the good Dr. Bloom-Verger has been searching for us.”

“That’s not exactly happy news,” Will said. “And Bedelia was cooperating with her?”

“To a point,” Hannibal said. “She wanted to find us as well, but she didn’t intend to allow Alana to track us completely.”

“Or so she says. You can’t trust that woman.”

Hannibal’s lips curled. “I can trust her, believe me. I gave her what she wanted, and quizzed her after. After our tryst she was perfectly honest. But there’s a problem.”

“A problem?”

“The last place Alana tracked us to was Barcelona...”

“…And Barcelona is our next stop,” Will finished. “Shit.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Still, it’s not like she’s _waiting_ for us there. Or is she?”

“No, she’s not. But if we’re sighted there, the authorities may have been previously alerted. We’ll have to be careful.”

“Or maybe we shouldn’t go at all,” Will said.

“That would break Cassandra’s heart. I don’t want that any more than you do.”

Will sighed. “Alright. This is a lot to take in in a hotel hallway. Let’s get back to the room and talk to Cassie. We can let her decide.”

“That’s acceptable,” Hannibal said. “Lead the way.”

 

**_MEANWHILE, IN MILAN…_ **

****

_In Italian:_

“Hey, who are these three? In the club shots? The two men and the girl?”

“Beats me. But they’re with Gaga, so they must be important.”

“What should we call them?”

“Nothing? Maybe her entourage?”

“Entourage works. They’re not Italian, are they?”

“They don’t seem to be, but the pictures aren’t exactly crystal clear. It’s almost like they’re trying to… Hmm.”

“Trying to hide themselves?”

“You think so too?”

“There might be a story here.”

“Let’s blow these up and spread them around. Maybe someone will recognize them.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Print them. They have the best angles on Gaga.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay. We’ll run them with the rest. Maybe dedicate a page to them?”

“Sure. Yeah, these are worth a page.”

“This is gonna be a great spread.”

“Maybe we’ll get a promotion.”

“Don’t count on it. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless we can ID those three. Like I said, there—“

“There might be a story there.”

“Yeah.” _A pause._ “Hey, this is the same girl she posed with inside the club! That shot… where is it?”

_Clicking from a mouse._

“It is! This shot is even better! Forget the ones from outside, run this one. Run it big. This is perfect.”

“You’re right. I just wish we knew who she was.”

“We’ll find out quick after we publish.”

“True.”

“For now, just get it to the design guys, and fast. Deadline’s approaching.”

“Alright. Good catch.”

“I try.”

“Braggart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the SLOOOOOW updates. Life's been crazy. I'll try to do better!


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